#i'm sad but its still lit

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with kny men

Pairings: Yoriichi x fem!reader; Sanemi x fem!reader

Word Count: 5,7k (lmao)

Warnings: injury in Yoriichi's part, smut in Sanemi's part so read if you're 18+, this is a long ass fic y'all, not proofread

This is actually my first time posting Sanemi smut and I'm super scared. Let me know what you think 🥹🤍

Also, do you want me to do other characters too?🫶

Yoriichi

I heard you @laurencrsnt 🫶

All your life, you never even thought about the possibility that maybe, you’ll encounter a demon someday. Why you, out of all people? Why especially you?

Even now with its cold eyes glaring down at you and your shoulder ripped open by its claws, you fail to find an answer for that. Is it your fate to die right here, when you only went out at night in order to buy medicine for your little sister who has fever? Is dying the cruelest death really your destiny when you wish for nothing more than growing old and watching your own children live their lives?

It’s unfair.

You shouldn’t lay here, crumpled onto the still wet street. You shouldn’t feel the sensation of your eyes watering, your hands trembling, your heart racing.

This shouldn’t be your last day walking on this earth. You didn’t even have the chance to find the man of your dreams yet…

It’s ridiculous and you know it, that spark of determination that rushes through your bones. All of the sudden you spring back onto your feet and start running. Out of the city, away from the lit streets straight into the dark woods.

Even if you have to die here, you won’t give up this easily. You won’t allow this demon to end your life without putting up a fight.

“Why do you girls always think you can run away, huh? It’s too easy to sweep you off your feet”, the demon behind you comments dryly.

With a swift motion of his hand, it digs open your tender flesh all over again, sends your violent scream echoing through the lonely forest. You fall to the ground like a bag of rice, your torn leg now refusing its service completely.

“Let me go!”, you shriek in horror.

No, you don’t want to die here, you just want to go back to bed and forget about this.

But the forest ground isn’t your bed and the demon in front of you who’s ready to slice through your throat isn’t only a nightmare.

Your heart sinks to the floor, body suddenly feeling numb and lifeless. You will die here.

“I’ll keep you in good memory. Well, at least for tonight”, the demon jeers at you.

You close your eyes, desperately try to imagine your little sister. She’ll find herself a loving husband and her very own family without any doubt. Even without you around, her life will turn out alright. Even without you around, life goes on. You don’t have to feel sad or guilty, you just have to let go…

“Get away from that woman.”

A low male voice, so charismatic that you think you might dream. He sure must be handsome. Men with voices like that always have a matching face.

A slicing blade, a dull thud. But no claws that dig into your flesh one last time, no bow of relief that you’ve been awaiting for quite some time by now. Your eyelids start shivering. When is this finally over?

“Are you alright? Please allow me to help you up.”

The second something touches your skin, your eyes snap open in an instant. But they aren’t greeted by those venomous red orbs from earlier. No, these ones are soft but strong and have that calming fuchsia color. This isn’t a demon.

This is a man.

“Don’t be afraid. The demon is gone”, he continues speaking with his low voice.

You have no control over your own body and shivering limbs. It’s impossible for you to say a single word. Are you really out of danger? Is it really over?

When he pulls you off the ground, a violent scream escapes your lips. No, you don’t want to die, you don’t want your life to end tonight. Not like this, not without saying goodbye.

“Please calm down, everything is alright now”, the stranger tries to reassure you, but his words don’t even reach your ringing ears.

You gasp for air like a fish on land, forehead now covered in ice cold sweat. This can’t be your end.

If Yoriichi doesn’t act now, you might faint due to your stress. But what is he supposed to do? You don’t seem to listen to his words and touching you might only make it worse. Maybe you need, assurance?

“I won’t hurt you, see? My hands have no intention of doing you any harm.”

Gently, he glides his fingertips up and down your uninjured harm. Despite the look of horror on your face and your gaping wounds, you do have a lovely face and truly remarkable eyes.

“I came here to help you”, he continues until his fingertips finally brush over your tear-soaked face.

What is this feeling of warmth deep inside his chest? You aren’t the first woman he saved from the claws of a demon.

“I would like to accompany you on your way back home-“

“No”, you suddenly blurt out.

Even though lying in bed on your own was all you were able to think about just a few moments ago, the thought feels like a threat now. What if another demon follows you back home? What if your little sister gets attacked because of your foolishness? No, you simply can’t go back now. But on the other hand…Just the thought of sleeping alone here in the woods runs shivers down your spine.

“I…I’ll find a place to stay. Otherwise…they might harm my sister…”, you mutter.

“Allow me to escort you to my estate, then.”

You yank your head to the side in sheer disbelief, eyes searching for a spark of humor in his calming orbs. Is he really serious about that? After all, you’re a stranger. He doesn’t even know your name. Now that you think of it…who is this?

“How can I know for sure that you aren’t a demon yourself?”

“Take my hand”, he instructs you gently.

Is this really a good idea? You take a deep breath in, try to calm down your pounding heart. What do you have to lose?

When your shaky fingers wrap themselves around his much larger hand, you get ingulfed by warmth. His palms feel rough but also comforting against your bruised skin.

“Demons are cold since they are dead”, he explains briefly.

“But I am not. I am a demon slayer. It is my only destiny to safe innocent souls from their death.”

Oh. Your gaze drifts towards a katana that hangs dangles from his belt. No, demon don’t find with those weapons. So, are those words really true?

“You…You want to help me?”

“I’d love to help you if you allow me to.”

What has gotten into him? Did he really offer you to hold his hand, let alone to sleep at his house so you don’t have to fear the night on your own? Never in his life, Yoriichi allowed himself to develop feelings apart from empathy for those around him.

But those eyes. Those eyes of yours really captivate him, devour him fully. How is he supposed to leave you out here, soaked in your own blood with bruises all over your body?

“You…really would?”

Is this really okay? When you were a child, your mother told you over and over that you aren’t allowed to talk to strangers, let alone man.

But…does that also include the handsome, charismatic and armored ones?

“I keep my word. Also, your wounds need care as well. Please, allow me to help you.”

What do you have to lose.

“If that’s the case, I’d love to take your offer”, you reply shyly.

“I’m glad to hear that. I will show you the way-“

A loud groan escapes your lips before you’re able to stop it. His charismatic eyes almost made you forget about the gaping wound the monster from before inflicted on you.

Almost.

“You shouldn’t move your leg with a wound like that. I will carry you to my estate.”

“You will…carry me?”, you mutter with widened eyes.

But just when you try to take a step forward, his words become painfully clear. No, there really is no way you’ll be able to walk anywhere with that leg. But allowing him to carry you?

“I might be a little heavy.”

“Let me assure you, you aren’t heavy at all.”

“Fine…”, you grumble.

“But only a few meters.”

Gently, he stranger wraps his arms around your shoulder and knees before he starts walking.

He smells good. Like a field of flowers on a sunny day. And the way his heart beats against your cheek reminds you that you’re still alive, that you survived somehow.

This man saved you.

“I didn’t even thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me. This is the least I can do for you after I almost came too late.”

He stares blankly at the blood that still drips from your leg. Just a few seconds later and that demon would have killed you with him simply watching. Why? Why is he not able to save them all, why is he still not good enough to stop this madness?

“Don’t tense up, don’t think anything less of yourself because I was injured. I was a fool for leaving the house this late at night on my own.”

Despite the fact that cold sweat still runs down your forehead and even though your fingertips still shake in shock, you cup his cheek and force his troubled eyes to look at you.

“I am beyond thankful for my rescue. The worst thing about dying today would have been leaving my little sister behind. But you saved me. And not only that, you even offered me a safe place to stay for the night. I really don’t know if…If I’d be able to sleep on my own tonight…”

The stranger doesn’t say a word, his eyes roaming around your face without a real aim.

“Oh, I didn’t even ask. What’s your name?”

“My name is not important-“

“I’m (y/n)”, you introduce yourself friendly.

“My…my name is Yoriichi”, the man carrying you mumbles.

Yoriichi. An unusual name that you’ve never heard before.

“That name suits you well.”

“We’ll arrive soon. I hope you don’t expect a big mansion since I am living in a rather small cottage-“

“I’m living in a tiny barrack in the city. A house in the woods sounds like a dream”, you mutter.

The second you open your eyes again, you find yourself in a wooden cabin with a plain futon lying on the floor and an improvised kitchen in the back of the house. Nothing special, very fitting for the man who gently lowers you onto the futon.

“I will take care of your wounds now”, he announces before taking off his haori and katana.

Without his threatful weapon dangling from his belt, he looks like a normal man.

If it wasn’t for those captivating eyes. He has to be the most breathtaking man you’ve ever seen.

“Fortunately, the cut on your leg isn’t deep. I’ll disinfect the wound and bandage it”, he explains briefly before his skilled hands spring into action.

“You really are good at everything”, you comment.

He’s so gentle that even the alcohol that disinfects your wound doesn’t seem to burn. Why have you never stumbled across him? You were so sure that you know each and every man around that it almost drove you insane. But him? He’s different from all the others. He’s truly special.

“You will have to take your kimono off. I need access to the wound on your shoulder.”

Oh.

“Y-yeah, sure…”

Hesitantly, you pull the blood-soaked fabric down your shoulder so that only your chest is still covered. Yoriichi’s eyes seem to gleam in the moonlight like liquid metal.

“You look lovely”, he flusters into the night.

He doesn’t know what has gotten into him. Is it the alcohol rising up his nose, the smell of blood that radiates from your bruised body that makes him say those strange things?

No. It has to be because of those eyes of yours. Those eyes that captivated him from the moment he first saw them.

"Thank you," you stammer, your cheeks flushing as you nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

"You too," you add quickly, immediately regretting your awkward response.

Both you and Yoriichi swallow hard, the atmosphere in the room suddenly changing.

“I am finished. You should rest for tonight. After all, this was a draining fight for you”, he mutters while getting up.

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heart still hammering so roughly against your ribcage that you’re almost sure he’s able to hear it. What was this tension?

“But…this is your futon-“

“You are my guest. Of course, I will sleep on the floor on the other side of the room.”

Oh. A wave of disappointment rushes over you before you’re able to stop it. What were you expecting, secretly hoping? That this man will share a bed with you?

Honestly, yes.

“You…you really don’t have to…”

Oh, how much Yoriichi wished he wouldn’t have to.

“I insist on taking the floor.”

“I actually want you to sleep by my side. Please.”

The begging tone in your voice stops him mid-track.

“This night was…horrible. A little company would definitely help, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind at all”, he replies a little too hasty.

“I just don’t want to invade your personal space. After all, I’m a stranger.”

“A really kind stranger”, you add shyly.

Are you acting out of line? You shouldn’t push him to sleep next to you when his offer to let you sleep here is already generous enough, right?

“Forget my question, I was acting out of line-“

“No, not at all. I would love sleeping besides you.”

He crosses the room in an instant and kneels down next to you.

“But let me know whenever I become too much.”

What a ridiculous thought. Why would he ever become too much? Him, your savior, that remarkable man.

You scoot over until your back is pressed against the cool wall, eyes still fixated on his gleaming eyes. Will you really be able to sleep tonight when this is the first time ever a man lies beside you?

And what a handsome one on top.

“You should try to sleep now. Nothing will happen to you as long as I am here”, he reassures you.

That is the least he can do after failing to protect you in the first place.

“Again, thank you for all of this. I definitely own you a favor”, you mumble.

Suddenly your lids start to get heavy, your mind slows down bit by bit. Maybe this rough night really took its toll on you. Is It the safety he radiates, his calming smell? In the matter of seconds, only your low and even breath is heard.

Finally, Yoriichi is able to allow himself a closer look at you. You look so peaceful and innocent with a face so remarkably beautiful that he can’t stop staring. You have to be the prettiest woman he’s ever seen. A man like him really doesn’t deserve lying next to a woman like you. Maybe he should give you space, leave you now that you fell asleep-

With a quiet groan, you draw closer to him in your sleep until your head rests on top of his chest and with your arms wrapped around his upper body.

He doesn’t dare to move an inch, eyes widen in utter surprise. Is this…cuddling? His mind races back and forth, eyes resting on your calm features. What is he supposed to do now?

Hesitantly, he allows his hand to rest on your back. What an unknown sensation, all those feelings that rise up his chest right where your hand rests.

For the first time since forever, he is the one who feels safe.   

He is the one who feels loved.

He is the one who feels warm.

And you? You cuddle yourself against him until the sun rises all over again.

Sanemi Shinazugawa

This one's for you @muichirolover14 🤍

“This is bullshit”, the man walking next to you mumbles under his breath.

“Keep focused. It was Kagaya-sama’s personal wish that the two of us go on this mission together”, you mumble with a fake smile decorating your bright red lips.

And that’s the only reason why you agreed in the first place. Why else would you pretend to be Sanemi Shinazugawa’s personal concubine if it wasn’t for Kagaya-sama and this undercover mission?

The plan is pretty simple. Countless people, including other demon slayers, lost their lives in this little innocent village that becomes a red-light district at night. Nobody knows why or who is responsible for this.

One of the upper moons, maybe.

It just made sense to dress you up as a concubine. After all, you are the light hashira, a mighty swordswoman and probably the most talented out of Mitsuri and Shinobu when it comes to acting.

And then there’s him. You glance at Sanemi’s annoyed face from the side. Why on earth did Kagaya-sama choose him? What about Rengoku, Giyu, Obanai, Tengen, Gyomei? Aren’t they a way better fit?

You sign to yourself.

Truth is, they aren’t. While Rengoku, Obanai, Tengen and Gyomei would stand out immediately, Giyu would never be able to sell you as his concubine. No, no one except the wind hashira is able to make this look natural.

No one but him looks this good in a dark green kimono.

What?

“Stop staring at me like that, brat”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

“I was just hoping you might disappear if I stare long enough, idiot”, you bite back in frustration.

Why does he always have to be so mean, though? You really tried to get along with him countless times, put on the most precious smile whenever you talked to him and made sure to always bring him ohagi whenever you had the chance to. But Sanemi Shinazugawa never stopped hating you. And eventually, a part of you started to dislike him as well. That one part though…

You allow your eyes a minor glimpse at his barely exposed chest. That tiny part deep within your head is somehow still drawn to him. And you hate it.

“Aren’t concubines supposed to shut up?”

“Watch your mouth or I’ll leave immediately.”

“Both of us know you wouldn’t do that.”

You let out your shaky breath, your hand crushing his while you wear the same friendly smile as before.

“Don’t mess with me, Shinazugawa”, you speak out with low voice.

His face tenses up ever so slightly, hand fighting for freedom out of your merciless grasp.

“You’ll regret talking to me like that when we’re alone, brat.”

-at the estate-

“I’d like to show you to my newest possession. Please introduce yourself”, Sanemi speaks out.

Like Amane-sama showed you, you bow in front of the man that looks you up and down with his filthy eyes.

“My name is Kiyomi”, you introduce yourself oh so sweetly.

“That name really suits you. What a beauty you are. I’m sure I’d find a lot of paying customers for you here”, the disgusting man purrs and stretches out his hand in order to touch your face.

“Don’t touch the goods”, Sanemi barks at him immediately before slapping his dirty hand away.

Who does this guy think he is, trying to touch you so casually? No. That jerk isn’t allowed to caress your face. The plain thought of men like him getting to put their hands on you…

Sanemi’s guts turn.

“Aren’t you here to sell her and yourself for the night? If that’s the case, she won’t be your good anymore for the next few hours but mine.”

He smiles at you through rotten teeth, his breath almost forcing you to choke. You are only here to detect the demon who is responsible for the countless deaths in this area. You don’t have to touch any of these men. None of them will touch you.

What about Sanemi, though? An uneasy feeling rises up your chest when your eye catches a group of women who stare him up and down with lust in their eyes. Will he allow himself a taste before continuing with this mission? Will he find a woman he is attracted to? All of them look flawless, too good to even consider the service of a paid men. But if that man looks like Sanemi…

“You will find your room to the right. This is where the female customers choose their good. After paying, you belong to them”, the man explains briefly while showing both of you around.

“Why would these women pay for the services of a man? This is a noble region that is well-inhabited by countless men”, you blurt out.

“It’s not about them being men. It’s about looks. Only the fine-looking men even get the chance to work here for the night”, he explains briefly.

Fine-looking man, huh? Well, there is no doubt in the fact that Sanemi suits that description way too good. With his firm muscles highlighted by scars from countless battles, he looks like a walking god. Let alone his perfect face, his eyes that now look soft and seducing without being irritated constantly. His white hair that frames his features perfectly.

“As for the women, we look for a broad variety of bodies, looks and personalities. You are very easy on the eye and mysterious. I’m sure countless customers will fall for that.”

“And what…what services do they expect?”

The man in front of you bursts out in hysteric laughter, you can feel Sanemi’s eyes piercing through your skull.

“What they expect? Intercourse and everything that revolves around it, of course! Do you think they pay you for some cuddles and nice words?”

You swallow hard. There is no need to do that, right? You’ll somehow shrug them off and investigate this place at night. Maybe you’ll find the demon right away and-

“Now, you are a fine-looking man. Who is this?”, a woman suddenly purrs out of the shadows.

“A new worker for the night”, the disgusting man explains with a dirty smile.

“Well, if that’s the case, I’ll definitely make a reservation.”

“It would be an honor, my lady”, suddenly replies in the same cheeky tone

Your guts turn in an instant, eyes narrowing slightly as you watch how a smile forms itself on Sanemi’s usual resting lips.

“What a gentleman he is. I cannot wait to meet you.”

“The honor is on my side, my lady.”

And then he steps in front of her. Elegantly, he grabs the hand she already holds out and kisses her knuckles. Your heartrate quickens, the warm flush that starts creeping up your face barely covered by your makeup.

Fucking asshole. So he’s acting like a jerk towards you all this time while treating other women like this? You hate the knot that forms itself in your throat, the disgusting feeling of disappointment that rushes over you.

Does he really hate you this much?

“Well, I think I should introduce myself to the customers as well. Have a pleasant night, Sir”, your monotone voice speaks out on its own.

With one last bow towards him, you follow the man into the women’s corridor without even gifting him a single look. Sanemi can’t help but furrow his eyebrows at your sudden reaction. Did you really want to get rid of him so badly? Maybe you’ll actually meet up with some of those guys and…

“Are you interested-“

“I will meet up with you later this evening, my lady. Please excuse me.”

Without another look or word, he storms into his assigned room and closes the door behind him.

Sanemi’s mind starts going insane. What if you actually like one of those guys? Or what if one of them hurts you, tries to force you into something you don’t want? He heard the worst stuff about places like this.

Fuck, he shouldn’t have let you go in the first place. Why you? This mission is way too dangerous for someone like you, for someone this gorgeous-

“I’m losing my fucking mind”, he mutters through gritted teeth.

“I can’t do this”, you breathe out in sheer panic while lying in bed.

No, just the thought of Sanemi having the fun of his life with that girl from earlier feels like ripping your beating heart out of your chest. Will he really share a bed with them?

If it’s for the mission, he definitely would. Nothing is greater than his urge to kill demons, especially when it comes to an upper ranked one. That little sacrifice wouldn’t stop him.

And it breaks your dumb heart.

A hard knock on the door rips you out of your running thoughts. Is this your first customer? All color drains from your face, eyes widen in horror with every bow against the wooden door.

“Just a moment”, your shaky voice shouts.

You…Do you have to look presentable? You have to think about the things you can tell him. Maybe you don’t even have to sleep with him, maybe this will distract you from the things Sanemi is probably doing right now.

You open the door.

And stare straight into the furious eyes of Sanemi Shinazugawa.

Before you’re even able to react, he pushes himself into your room and closes the door behind him before yanking you against the wall.

“What did you do?”, he hisses through gritted teeth.

Your heart starts hammering roughly against your ribcage. Him? Here?

“What the hell are you doing he-“

“Answer my question right now!”, he barks into your face.

“I didn’t do anything!”, you shriek.

“What the hell has gotten into you!?”

“Has somebody touched you?”

His rough hands start running up and down your neck, yank the sleeves of your kimono upwards in a haste.

“What?”, you breathe out.

What the hell is going on? Just when you managed to pull your arm away from him, he grabs your wrist again with his face only inches away from yours.

“Did somebody touch you?”, he screams into your face.

“No!”, you cry back.

“But why would you even care? It looked like you had plenty of fun!”

He shakes his head while looking at you in utter surprise and confusion.

“What non-sense are you talking now-“

“Did you sleep with that woman from earlier when I was gone?”

God, you hate the way your voice cracks in the middle of the sentence, you hate the way your eyes fill with hot tears. He came here to confront you with all those accusations while he was out there having the time of his life, while all you were able to think about is him?

“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone!”

“Stop lying to me!”

“You’re the only one I want!”, he suddenly blurts out breathlessly.

“What?”, you utter in hushed panic.

This has to be a cruel joke, an unforgiving way to stop you from doing anything. Sanemi Shinazugawa, wanting you?

“Since I first saw you with your fucking perfect face and so melodic voice, I can’t think about anything else! You, sleeping with some random guy while I’m just a few doors away. I can’t take it!”

He grabs your head with both hands, eyes staring at you so intensely that you feel like collapsing any minute. If that’s really true, if that’s really how he feels…

“But…I want you too”, you squirm.

“I always wanted you, Sanemi.”

His lips crash against yours with so much power that you almost fall over. Suddenly his hands are all over your body, tongue unforgiving as he discovers your mouth with a passion you’ve never felt before. You allow your very own hands to finally discover the deep valleys of his muscular back, to let your hasty fingertips wander over his tight chest.

It becomes unbearable. Everything starts to become unbearable. That minor gap between your bodies, the clothes that still deny you full access to his naked skin, the feeling of not having enough.

“I need more”, you whimper against his lips, not even knowing what exactly you’re asking about.

Sanemi lifts you up with ease, not even breaking the kiss when he pushes you onto the bed with his massive body lingering on top of you.

You feel like suffocating in the most exquisite way.

“I’ll give you whatever you want”, he breathes against your lips that now find your neck.

A whimper escapes your mouth before you can stop his, body rearing up underneath him.

“S-Sanemi!”

“Fuck”, he hisses before his dark eyes meet you again in distress.

“Tell me you want this.”

“I…what?”

You can’t produce a single logical sound, head still spinning from the unknown sensation that starts building up inside your stomach. Is this what desire feels like?

“Tell me you want this too. Tell me you want me.”

“I wanted you all this time”, you reply without thinking twice.

With a swift motion, you find yourself engulfed by his arms with his lips caressing yours all over again. Like in trance, you begin opening his kimono, expose his bare skin to your merciless eyes.

“You look so shamelessly good”, you whimper.

Oh, how often you pondered about how his chest feels like, if his scars are soft or as rough as his walls.

“Can I…?”

His hands grab the ends of your kimono, eyes staring down at you flustered. Is that blush creeping up his cheeks?

“It’s just…You know…I’ve never done this before…”, you stammer.

“Do I look like I did, idiot?”, he mutters while gently taking off your kimono until you lay underneath him.

Completely naked.

“I mean, yes…”

“No, I didn’t”, he barks.

“I guess I waited for someone special…”

“I did as well”, you reply in an instant.

Is this real or are you dreaming? Sanemi Shinazugawa laying on top of you fully nude. Sanemi Shinazugawa stating that he likes you. Sanemi Shinazugawa’s hand that start moving downwards…

Until he reaches between your legs and simply takes your breath away.

“Are you okay?”, he mutters, eyes filled with worry.

You nod absently, eyes rolling back into your skull. God, this feels like heaven. When a groan escapes his lips, you completely lose yourself. Out of instinct, you grab his neck and yank him even closer towards you, your hot breath clashing against his face.

“Sanemi!”

His name sounds like a prayer coming from your mouth, forces his fingers to move even faster. Is this good? Is he doing everything alright? Your whimpers grow louder and louder, nails digging into his now oversensitive skin with so much pressure that it threatens to burst. You look so gorgeous with your eyes pressed shut, your delicate mouth forming an “o”.

And then you burst right underneath him, scream his name over and over again with your legs shaking. He can’t wait no longer, can’t contain himself another second.

“I need you”, he mutters.

“Please, let me have you.”

“Yes”, you breathe out, mind still spinning when the firework that just exploded in your lower body slowly starts wearing off.

Until you feel him all over again. But this time, not his fingers. Your glossy eyes widen in utter surprise when he carefully stretches you out and disappears inside of you, hands holding onto him for dear life.

“Are you okay?”, he whimpers.

“Please…give me…more…”

He almost loses his mind, the new sensation almost eating him up alive. Countless nights, he dreamed about what it might be like to have you, what it would feel like. But the reality is so much better than any dream.

Sanemi picks up his pace and grabs your waist passionately in order to keep you in place. Over and over, again and again your sticky skin collides with his until he threatens to burst.

“You’re mine”, he presses out through gritted teeth while pounding into you.

“I’m all yours, Sanemi!”, you cry out, nails now leaving marks on his skin.

“I need…ah! I need you! Please!”

He knows exactly what you’re asking for. One last time, he picks up the pace while holding onto you for dear life.

Until finally, you scream his name. Finally, he’s able to let it all go.

“(y/n)!”

He collapses on top of you, his weight leaving you dizzy and unable to move. None of you dares to make a move, the only thing that’s filling the room being your shaky and sharp breaths.

“I love you, (y/n)”, Sanemi finally mutters, his hand caressing your cheek oh so gently.

“I love you too-“

“Mission report, mission report! Kagaya-sama requires a mission re- AH!”

“Get out of here right now!”, Sanemi barks at the crow that casually entered the room.

“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE!?”

“Get out!”, Sanemi screams on top of his lungs before yanking up and hunting the crow butt-naked through the room

Tags: @chilichopsticks @hellkaiserinphoenix  @ynackerman9499 @keepghostly @beatrexworld

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@lees-chaotic-brain @wordskeeper @polarbvnny @sugu-love @ryva @baku2345

@komelrebi-san @kentocalls @barbuse @sunshine7queen @lavenderdrxp

@yaninnaacu @hopefulbelievertimemachine @laurencrsnt

[bunnyhugs77]

High Demand

ꕤ- Pairing: Dealer! Jungkook x Reader

ꕤ- WC: 2.6k

ꕤ- A modern day Romeo and Juliet

Content: college student! reader, grumpy jk, brief texting! au, jk is lowkey whipped, drug use (marijuana), reader is his special customer, vaping, opposites attract, suggestive themes, minor jealousy, idiots in love (but they won't admit it), shot gunning, grinding, fwb?

Other Content: thigh riding, high sex, jk titty appreciation, unprotected sex (no.), hand job, soft dom kook, reader is a little needy, brief switch! koo, hickeys, pet names, spit, biting.

Shaking your head with a small giggle as you looked at your phone before tossing it aside. You're totally his favourite. You know he's stubborn and he would never admit it but deep down he loves delivering to you the most.

Looking around your sad and dimly lit dorm, all the lights were off and your roommate was gone for the weekend doing god knows what with her weird ass biology major boyfriend who would collect rabbit tails in jars for 'science'.

You were looking at one right now actually, it seems they left one behind, on the coffee table. It was just fermenting in... you actually weren't sure and didn't want to know.

Your eyes felt like they were on fire the longer you looked at the stupid philosophy paper you were writing. The bright light from your laptop was beginning to drill into your head. Your head lolled to the side glancing at the time on your phone.

It was almost 11:30, and time for a break. Abandoning the device on the couch for a quick wake-up shower; by the time you'd gotten changed and returned to the living room, you could expect Jungkook any minute now.

Except, this is Jungkook we're talking about. He's always late.

That's why when you heard the familiar rattling of the rusty fire escape you were startled. It was a little past midnight. Climbing through the window in nothing but your basketball shorts and a white tee.

Pleasantly surprised to see Jungkook scaling the platform with a bag of takeout pinned in between his teeth. The sight of you looking down at him from where he climbed made his eyebrows raise but of course he couldn't say anything.

Not until he was finally close enough for you to grab the bag from his mouth and he stands up. You climb back inside first with him following behind with a pained sigh. "I'm so sick of coming here. Got me climbing walls like its fucking subway surfers." He curses while you place the food down on the table.

Completely ignoring him, practically drooling as you slowly peeled open the bag. "And I thought you said you weren't gonna bring me anything." He snatches the bag.

"I didn't."

You let yourself fall onto the couch, arms crossed and unbelieving. "Oh yeah? So you just coincidentally craved Wendy's and decided to haul it up three flights up a ladder from your mouth when you could've just eaten it in the car?"

"Yeah exactly." He shrugs, obviously lying.

"Give me the bag, Jungkook."

"Fine. But I'm charging you extra for the delivery and the labour of bringing it up here." He hands it to you and you roll your eyes knowing it was nothing more than a bluff.

"It's not my fault you're out of shape," you mumble unwrapping the burger. "Oh yeah? Is this what out of shape looks like to you?" He says it almost offended but challenged.

Choking briefly on your food as he lifts up his shirt, revealing the defined abs that you have such lewd memories of. "Yeah, that's what I thought. You try climbing 3 flights up a ladder and tell me it's easy." You shrug,

"Not my fault you're banned from the campus." He drops himself down beside you, reaching for the bag of fries and taking some for himself. "But it is, if you hadn't called me to drop off a stash for Angelica's dorm party maybe I could still take the stairs."

You drop your half-eaten burger with apologetic eyes, "How was I supposed to know they were doing random security checks in the lobby? At least you didn't get arrested." You pout and he scoffs.

"Bare minimum." He says via grumpy mutter under his breath so you offered up the rest of your food to him as a peace offering. A little sad that he actually took it but you were getting full anyway.

As he finished up the rest of your food you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "So do you still do drops with Angelica?" He nods with his mouth full of the last bite, stuffing the wrappers back in the bag.

"How often does she call you?-- for deliveries I mean." He chuckles, licking his lips, "Jealous?" You take the trash off the coffee table and bring it to the kitchen to toss it in the garbage. "You're delusional."

"I can't help it if I'm in high demand." He manspreads, his arms stretched over the back of the couch. "Just shut up. Do you have my pen?" He reaches for the pocket inside his leather jacket, pulling out the slim box.

Already knowing that you were going to use it now, he began to unbox it while you collected the cash you needed. "40 right?" You say handing him the small spread of bills, "Yeah, but for you, I guess I could make it 30." He shrugs conceitedly.

"Because I'm your favourite." You say and he shakes his head, "No. Because I ate your food." Which he paid for but you didn't dare to say that out loud, you were getting cheap weed.

"So who's your favourite then Jungkook?" He hands you the pen, "Listen. I don't climb up the fire escape when I do deliveries for Angelica, I make her come to me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Trying to tug the pen out of his grasp but he holds it firm until you respond, "I guess I can work with that." He smiles softly, letting you take the first hit as his arm wraps around your shoulder.

The two of you passed the pen back and forth, with little giggles here and there and wide eyes on the episode of SpongeBob that was playing.

By now the dark living room is illuminated by nothing more than your roommate's lava lamp and a strip of purple LEDs' taped behind the TV. You could see the smoke as it floated past the few sources of light.

"Open." He directs, taking a particularly long hit, leaning into you and blowing the pungent smoke into your mouth, sucking it in from his lips.

The pen is now forgotten as it rolls between the cracks of the couch. Straddling Jungkook's muscular thigh as he flexed it every now and then, taking hits from his blueberry Ice vape and blowing it to the ceiling, giving you a prime view of his sharp jaw under the soft purple lighting.

The sight made you shake, gyrating your hips almost desperately as you chased the feeling of friction on his denim-clad thigh. "You like that? You feel good fucking yourself on my thigh?" The question was rhetorical, you were too dazed to answer him anyway.

Your heavy-lidded gaze slowly rolls up to his pretty face once you feel his hand move from your hips to gently wrap around your neck, not applying any pressure, just there to let you feel the weight of his hand. "Answer me," He says, and you fall forward "Yess, feels so good." You moan, and Jungkook has danced this dance with you enough to see you were close.

But of course, he couldn't let you cum so soon, not yet. His hands flew to your hips and pinned you down on his thigh, restricting your range of motion. "Please," You beg and he wishes he had a little more willpower but he couldn't say no to you, not when you looked so fucked out when he's barely touched you.

"Fuck. Take your shirt off." Leaning back and crossing your arms over the base of the shirt, you pried it off your body desperately. Leaving you in your black lacy bra and it pulled out a guttural groan from Jungkook's chest.

"You little whore." he grits through his clenched teeth, grip tightening on the arm of the couch nearly ripping the fabric.

This position was no longer giving him what he so desperately craved. Shrugging the jacket from off his shoulders and taking off the tank top underneath letting your eyes roam over his built upper body, oh how you wanted to just...

Without thinking your tongue striped up the expanse of his bulky pecs. This was new, but Jungkook was so high out of his mind anything and everything you did felt like he was on cloud 9.

Your mouth dropped down to wrap around his rosy nipples and you could've never anticipated the worked-up reaction you got from him. "Oh shit, shit shit." He gasps, hands gripping your waist tight enough that you're sure there will be bruises by the morning.

Letting your tongue lap around his nipples with pure hunger, an inexplicable flame burning in your core as you were finally the one who got to watch the other be reduced to a moaning mess.

His once soft moans turned a little breathy and high-pitched, His hips bucked causing you to jolt in his lap, he was getting close.

"Didn't think you'd like having your tits played with so much?" You tease him but he didn't find the humour in it. He holds you by the throat once more, this time applying a generous amount of pressure, pushing you off him.

Unbuckling his belt and you knew what that meant. He slides out of his pants, followed by the boxers that were the last barrier between your moistened lips and his throbbing cock. "Let's put that smart mouth of yours to good use, yeah?" He hums, watching as you sink to your knees, hand carefully wrapped around his base, starting with slow pumps.

"Spit on it." Doing as told, you let a wad of spit fall from your pretty, plush lips and coat the shaft of his dick, you worked your palm up his length. Already satisfied with the way his head was thrown back.

"Just like that," Reaching for the vape, he takes a few good hits, the head rush mixed with the pleasure had him seeing stars-- the object falling from his hands immediately the moment he felt the warm heat of your mouth wrap around his sensitive tip.

"Y/n-" He breathes out, almost scared, he was so close, too soon. He's never struggled to hold himself back this badly before. What were you doing to him?

The obscene sounds of you choking as you struggled to take all of him in your mouth, letting your nose touch the soft, trimmed hairs near his base. Focusing on breathing through your nose before you felt a heavy hand on the back of your head, pushing you lower.

You were quite literally slobbering on his dick, gagging with every buck of his hips. "That's it, princess. You're doing so well--Shit. Mouth feels like fucking heaven." His praise rushes to your core and has your left hand trailing down to rub yourself through your lace underwear.

The rough friction being more than enough to get you there, "I'm gonna cum, baby. Where-- Shit!-- Where do you want it?" He gasps, his hips snapping, pushing his length down your throat almost erratically. You don't answer, only hollowing your cheeks to take him deeper, making your desires clear.

Your own fingers quickening their pace, your own sounds travelling through his dick in vibrations and pushing him right over the edge with you, filling your mouth with his warm cum.

Swallowing as if it were second nature. "Stick out your tongue," He says softly. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he tries to regain his composure from his overwhelming climax. Your tongue was out and cleared of any of his cum and it made him crazy.

He remembers the first time he'd brought an order to you over 6 months ago. He thought you were nothing more than a cute little philosophy major, never did he think he'd have you beneath him like he does right now.

Looking up at him, daring to give you an almost angelic gaze while the two of you ruined each other. Tainting each other with your own touches. "Kiss me?" You ask it so cutely, tempting him with the pout on your lips. You weren't being fair.

His body didn't give him a choice before his lips were on yours, his hips grinding into yours. The feeling of his solid dick rolling against your skin making the butterflies go ramped in your stomach.

The way you licked over his bottom lip with your own made Jungkook weak, stumbling on his elbows as he held himself up over you. Soft groans could be heard the deeper the kiss became.

Messy and intimate. Your hand crept up the back of his neck to tug at the dark locks of hair on his head. There was a loud pop and the two of you paused.

With Jungkook between your legs and with you under him, your heads turned slowly towards the coffee table where the jar was, dedicated to the fermenting rabbit tail. "What the fuck is that?" Jungkook slowly sits up, "My roommate's boyfriend's weird biology shit. I dunno, it freaks me out too." You sit up, now remembering what the two of you were in the middle of doing.

"That shit's not gonna blow up or anything right." You gently peck him on the lips but his brain seems preoccupied by the jar, "who knows," you say, kissing right under his ear and that seemed to get him to zone in on you.

Catching his bottom lip under his teeth as your kisses became more eager, suckling on a certain spot on his neck, his head falling back against his will. "Fuck, Y/n-- Don't you dare." You pull off his soft skin with a soft pop, admiring the burgundy bruise left behind.

"Oops." Your apology was ingenuine and bratty, and Jungkook hated brats.

Tearing you out of your final pieces of clothing before manhandling you into his lap. "Sit on it." He demands and you follow without question. Moaning out loud as his dick spread your lips apart like butter.

Sliding down with ease and a stretch of your velvety walls that were currently squeezing Jungkook for everything he's got and he's got nothing left, everything was yours.

"I-Shit! You feel so good, Kook!" He couldn't bother to correct you on the annoying nickname you were incessant on using. "Yeah? You like that- fuck, you feel so good." He curses, bucking his hips up into you as you raise your hips trying to match his thrusts.

He was fucking you so good, so ruthlessly, your head falls onto his shoulder and you needed more than just the couch to hold on to, your teeth sank into the muscular meat of his shoulder and his pace faltered.

"Shit shit shit! Do that again." He groans, picking up an inhumane pace that had you bouncing all over the place until he stilled you in his arms. His grunts and breathy moans came out right beside your ear only pushing you to your orgasm faster.

"J-jungkook-!" You pant, unable to speak, feeling like your insides are being rearranged, "Me too, baby. Cum with me." You finish first, and with a few more unsynchronized snaps of his hips, you were being filled to the brim with his cum.

The room is filled with nothing but the sound of muffled music playing from your neighbour's next door and laboured breaths. Jungkook gently lays you down on the couch beside him, staring into your eyes.

This felt so intimate. You felt his gaze deeper than just behind your eyes, it was as if he was looking into your soul. His eyes were tinted red as he looked at you with an adoring gaze. "You're cute." He says it casually as though he hadn't just fucked you.

Your eyes roll before they close, feeling the sleepiness begin to kick in. "Bet you say that to all your customers." Mumbling the words into his chest while he began to grin a little.

"Nope. Only to my favourite." Your eyes shoot open.

"I knew it."

[hmusunoo]

𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐏𝐄𝐒! - hyung line

▏synopsis. enhypen hyung line as different types of angst tropes

▏warnings. angst, most of these are really sad.

▏wc. 2k

✩ heeseung - memory loss

You woke up in a blur. The lights to this very lit up room were blinding, coupled with the white walls and thin sheets you laid upon. Your mind was in a haze, your eyes taking long to adjust to its surroundings as your head pounded so hard you could feel the ache behind your eyes. Groggily you brought your hand up, pawing at your eyes to alleviate the bleariness from them.

Your confusion was laden on your face as you took in your surrounds. You were definitely in a hospital that was for certain. If it weren’t for the stark white of the room and the crisp smell of cleaning supplies you weren’t sure if your mind would have even registered it. It seemed that normal day to day things were splotchy to recall, names of objects and colors were hard to come by.

Your body had ached. Feeling as if you were hit by an a thousand pound truck at record speed and in the confusion to find your bearings you hadn’t noticed the hunched figure that sat directly next to your hospital bed, fast asleep. Chest rising and falling at a rhythm.

more under the cut!

A boy sat next to your bed, holding tightly to your hand as if it were his lifeline. You wiggled your hand out of the boys grip. The movement had caused the boy to stir, opening his eyes to peer at you. The boys eyes widened as he looked you.

"Y/n!" He said, hoping up from his place on the bed. "You're awake." His smile had brought a small sense of warmth to your chest, one you couldn't explain and were extremely confused by.

You tilt your head in confusion at the boy but said nothing, struggling to find the right words to say, to break his happy spirit when you tell this boy that you had no idea who he was. None at all.

Finally deciding to break the ice you asked "Who are you?" The bright smile that once adorn this beautiful boys fell, a look of confusion now replaced the happy expression. "What?" He asked his tone broken sounding.

"It's Heeseung? Your'e boyfriend.." You tried your hardest to force the memories of him back but it just wasn't working. You had no idea who he was and somehow deep down inside of you seeing him sad and heartbroken hurt you.

Your mind might not have any idea to who he was but your heart definitely had.

✩ Jake - bet

You were running. You weren't entirely sure where you were going but all you did know was that you had to get out of here.

You were trying to catch your breath but the bubbling of a sob was to hard to swallow, catching in your throat. The sound of footsteps behind you reminding you to keep your pace and not allow Jake to catch up to you. You feared that your resolve might break if you were face to face with him after what was just revealed to you.

"Y/n!" Jake shouted after you panting. His voice breathy from running. You started slowing down getting tired. The single lapse win pace was Jake's biggest advantage in catching up to you. "Listen to me please, baby"

Jake sounded desperate his voice breaking slightly at the end of his sentence. "Please" he pleaded again. You stood still your back to him hugging your arms around yourself, the only form of protection you could provide yourself.

"You lied to me" You whispered not able to conjure up anger only sadness. "I was a bet, a fucking bet" The tears from your eyes like a waterfall. You didn't turn to him, you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. You wanted to appear stronger than that even though you knew you weren't.

"I can explain, ok." Jake said sucking in a breath "I'm sorry I hurt you-"

"You broke me!" You whipped around to look at him finally. The anger finally simmering in you, reaching its boiling point and exploding all over the two of you.

"I gave everything to you! Just to find out I was a fucking bet. The punch line of your sick fucking joke. I don't want any part of it anymore. Leave me alone." You spit the words at him trying to hurt him like he had hurt you. You think you succeeded when you watched his face drop. A look of despair over taking him. He was one hell of an actor you'd give him that.

"Just- let me explain before you berate me-"

"You deserve it" You said cutting him off again "You deserve to hurt like I hurt Jake."

"You were a bet." He said, you scoffed shaking your head at him "I know that already."

"But I fell in love with you, that was real. And I know that doesn't change how this happened but I mean it ok? I love you. " The tears felt like they were forming again.

Your heart breaking even more, you knew within yourself that you would not be able to forgive him. if now or if ever you weren't sure, you just knew that it hurt walking away from him.

✩ jay - saying hurtful things in anger during an argument

"You're not listening to me!" You shouted in frustration grabbing your head in annoyance. "You never have time for me anymore Jay. I miss you"

"I hear you loud and clear Y/n, and im telling you I can't help that I have a job and responsibilities." Jay sat on the couch head in his hands as you stood over him trying to get him to just hear you out god damnit.

"That's not what I mean and you know it Jay." You said defeated. "I just want you to make time for me. I miss my boyfriend, I miss who we used to be."

"I can't always be the same person y/n" Jay snapped, standing from his place on the couch. "Some of us are trying to do things in their life, some of us want to be successful and not be stuck at home listening to their nagging girlfriend all day." The words struck you.

You said nothing in surprise at his sudden outburst. The silence more than likely clearing Jay's mind. The realization of what he said hanging in the air over the two of you.

"So I'm just some loser girlfriend who waits at home all day for her more successful boyfriend to make a living for her. got it." You said curtly nodding at Jay.

"Y/n I didn't me-"

"You didn't mean it? Then why did you say it Jay. Stop kidding yourself that's the most real thing you've said to me in awhile." Your words stung him. The severity of the situation dawning on him.

"I didn't mean to say it like that Y/n." Jay said, reaching out to grab your waist. You turned away from him softly muttering "I need a break."

"You need a break?" He asked, his tone rushed. "Are you breaking up with me? Over something like this?"

His question had made you angry. Did he think what he said was nothing? That it weighed no significance. "I don't know" You responded honestly. "what I do know is that I need to be away from you. I'll be at Y/f/n's house don't call me." With that being said you walked out the door grabbing only the essentials not knowing if you'd ever be back.

✩ sunghoon - reader catches him talking badly about her

You were excited to finally see Sunghoon after he had been busy with comeback schedules and preparing for tour. He had been spending a lot of time in the dorms and not coming to see you as often as he used to. It was exhausting being away from him.

You often called him only to be sent to voicemail or to get a quick 'love u talk to you later' text. Something that rarely ever happened, you didn't end up talking later.

You would sometimes go days without talking to Sunghoon, you missed him dearly. So tonight you decided to surprise him. You were going to wait for him at the dorm. He would be home soon and finally you'd be able to spend some time together even if its for the night. You sat in Sunghoon's room scrolling on instagram waiting for the text from Jungwon that they were home. Finally your phone dinged with the notification that they were home.

You knew that it had been a long day for them so you decided to send a quick text to Sunghoon before he came up wanting him to be even more excited to see you when you surprised him.

You texted him ; have a goodnight babe! love you and miss you!!

it was simple and sweet and you just hoped that he loved in. Gathering the snacks you had gotten for the two of you, you felt giddy and jumpy at the thought of seeing Sunghoon after so long. Finally the door to dorms opened and you heard bustling of the boys coming in.

"I'm exhausted" You heard Jake groan out and then the sound of a thud that was most likely his bag. "Sunghoon why don't you go see Y/n tonight since we have the day off tomorrow." You heard Heeseung say. Sunghoon let out a groan. "She just texted me and honestly I'm not even going to answer I don't feel like dealing with her tonight."

Your ears perked up at that. A dreadful feeling sat at the pit of your stomach. "Hyung..." Jungwon spoke softly "maybe she just misses you?'

"She's over baring with it. She's like my mom with how much she texts and calls me. You think she would get the hint when I don't answer for days, I deal with millions of fangirls a day I don't need to deal with one when I get home too." Taken aback by his words you step back, hugging the wall.

You hadn't realized you were crying until you felt the wetness on your cheeks.

Sunghoon must have started to make his way towards the room because all you could hear was Jungwon's protest. It was too late though, the door swung open and you were met face to face with Sunghoon.

As soon as his eyes set on your his face turned as white as sheet. Realizing that you must have heard his harsh words based on the tears falling from your eyes.

"baby.." Sunghoon spoke shock written all over his painstakingly beautiful face.

"Is that how you really feel?" You asked him, the hears still falling from your eyes. "Like I'm some crazy fangirl"

Jungwon, Jake and Heeseung stood awkwardly behind Sunghoon watching the scene unfold before their eyes.

"Since i'm such a bother to you, I'll do you a favor by leaving and never coming back." You were stern. Turning to grab the things you had brought with you save for the snacks. He could have those.

"No, Y/n I didn't mean it like that I'm just stressed with work." He tried to reason with you. Trying to stop you from walking out go the dorm.

"I was only trying to help you Sunghoon. Not suffocate you." You were still crying. Humiliated as his members watched you break down.

"I know that baby- "

"don't call me that" You cut him off "I'm not your baby anymore."

"Y/n no" He said shaking his head. "Let's talk about this first." You shook your head a sigh falling from your lips.

"There's nothing to talk about I heard what you said, I got the message." With all your belongings in your hands you walked out the door leaving an embarrassed and heart broken sunghoon behind.

taglist - @shypen , @belovedhoon , @st1llm0nster , @blossommi , @jooniesbears-blog , @kkamismom12

[mcondance]

lovely

“You say things with your mouth, cobwebs and flies come out / I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow / Luckily, I can read your mind, flies and cobwebs unwind / They will not take you down, They will not cast you out”

Or, you’re fine. And whatever other words hide behind those four letters. Spencer sees what a piece of you wants to hide from him.

notes fluff (mcondance writes fluff??) but still MDNI, reader is neurodivergent this is for my baby girls (audhd spencer reid kissers), inspired by those lyrics from lovely by twenty øne piløts, do not listen while you read. this is what having a dual tøp-spencer reid era does to a writer. gif from pinterest. also guys please i’ve been experimenting with layouts for my works for like… months now if this layout is ugly just ignore it please please. mcondance capitalizes ?!

word count 1.1k+ (closer to 1.2k hello i am proud)

You lie still on your back in the middle of the bed as you watch Spencer close the door and set his cardigan down on the chair by the dresser. He floats through the dim room, momentarily lit up by the interludes of soft moonlight wafting through the windows. He takes his place beside the bed. Your music pauses.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

“I’m fine.”

You’re lying. Spencer knows you’re lying; it wouldn’t take a genius to deduce that. It’s in your voice, most obviously. But it’s in the other details that only Spencer would notice, too. Not because he’s a genius, but because he’s your Spencer. 

The room is dark. Which wouldn’t be much of a problem, if you didn’t sound so bleak and tired when you spoke. You have your big headphones on, which, again, wouldn’t be so bad if you’d have pulled one back when he walked in, or even just told him that the song’s almost at the good part, and then after it hits you’ll take them off.

The room is bathed in moonlight. The moon, and your Spencer. Two shoulders for you to lean on. Three, actually, with the music you were just listening to. 

But all of the shoulders just aren’t enough to block out the bad feelings you’re having right now.

Overwhelmed. Sad. A little depressed. Whatever. 

“I don't think so, honey,” Spencer speaks softly from where he stands in a split of moonlight, hands in his pockets as he shrugs.

He glows in a silver streak. You sniffle. Fuck.

He allows silence to ensue, obviously giving you time to get your thoughts together. The bed dips to the left as he sits down beside you and props his leg up. A part of you wants to laugh at the common knowledge that if you had the will to look down you’d see an interesting sock and a Converse, but you don’t have the energy to do anything but what you’ve been doing since you let your playlist roll into its fifth run— lay down and alternate between staring out into the blackness of your room and the backs of your eyelids.

“It’s nothing,” you obfuscate. But it’s obviously not nothing.

Again, he lets his silence give you comfort instead of pushing you to talk. You take it gratefully, as it gives you the time you need to collect yourself and try to put words to what’s going on in your head and all under your skin.

You breathe in.

“I'm just… irritated.”

You breathe out.

A bit of weight lifts off of your chest at your short admission, but the elephant in the room continues to perch tall and proud on you, crushing you and leaving very little room for you to exist.

Still, Spencer is silent. The quiet puffs of his breath and the dip in the mattress are enough. Anything else would be too much, and he knows that. So he lets you lead him into the dark with you, he stays still and lets you guide him into the cavernous deep of all that you feel right now.

The fan whirs and cars pass outside the window. The stillness of the night almost laughs at the chaos ensuing in you.

Another breath, deeper this time as you gather the courage to try to express what it is you’re feeling.

“I don't know,” you blurt. “Everything's just too loud and my friends are all annoying and nothing on YouTube is interesting and I feel like I'm gonna explode and crumble all at the same time.” Those tears are bubbling up under the surface of your skin again and threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

And now that you’ve spoken and some of the tension in the air has dissipated, Spencer feels it’s appropriate for him to talk.

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve been working a lot lately without many breaks and now you’ve run out of steam, and that’s okay. It happens. You’re just burnt out.”

Horribly, his sweet words inflame a mean, hot part of you. You scoff, finding the strength to wipe a stray tear as it falls. Spencer knows you don’t mean it, that something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification.

Burnout. You hate that word. You wish it didn’t happen to you. You wish that you were normal and being stressed didn’t mean paralysis and staring at the ceiling like it’ll change and morph into an answer or a semblance of comfort. 

In the dark, you strain your eyes at his form. You can just barely make out the wisps of hair flying in all directions away from his face. His posture is terrible. You can tell he’s looking off to the side of you so you won’t feel overwhelmed under his eyes. Perhaps he was made for you.

The air softens, and you do too. The facade of anger slips away as quickly as it reared its ugly head. You take a shuddering breath and let your head fall towards him.

He moves closer and a beam of moonlight illuminates him as he takes you in with warmth etched onto the comfort of his face.

Something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification. 

Fortunately, Spencer won’t let that happen. 

How grateful you are for this man who won’t let you get the aloneness that some tired part of you craves. He’ll stick beside you and sit in silence for hours upon hours if it meant you wouldn’t feel alone. He has done that before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

With him smiling softly at you even in your cocoon of darkness, that sweet quirk of his lips that is ever-present when he’s looking at you, you feel a little better. Now, he can touch you. Before that thought even registers, he reaches out for your knee and rests his hand there, rubbing his thumb up and down over your skin.

It doesn’t cross the line of overstimulation, and it doesn’t feel like not enough. It’s just enough. Spencer can read you as well as the surplus of books he reads daily. There’s no push to get up, to take your headphones off or turn the light on.

Spencer wants only for you to breathe, and to know that he is here. When he hears your breathing become easy again, and he feels just a bit more of the discord you’re swathed in slip off of you, he knows you know.

His hand on your knee won’t nurse you back to your functioning form. And it’s not what he’s striving to do. 

And as you look through the darkness into his moon-bathed eyes, you know you’ll have him here with you every step of the way, by some divine power that put him in your life. And that’s okay. You won’t be okay for a while, but you have him to lean on. You’ll always have him to lean on. You feel the love he has for you radiating off of him, pushing into your skin as he caresses it slowly.

Getting out of bed sometime later sounds a little easier, now.

[natsaffection]

Ohh an idea 💡 in my head and I know you are perfect to write this, basically reader is working at a company that is run by bad guys but doesn't know it, so natasha is sent on a mission to get close to her and gather Intel, so couple weeks pass and reader finds out in the most distraught way which causes her to end everything with Natasha but still have a good heart decides to give everything natasha needs to take down the company, (happy ending or sad ending either works) 💝

Showing everything. | N.R

Warnings: Just Angst?

Word count: 8,4k

A/n: I'm so grateful every time I finish a Ask that's been on my list for weeks. So thank you for your patience each time. 🫶🏼

You had always dreamed of finding a job where you could make a difference in the world, but you never thought it would come in the form of an elegant office in the heart of New York City. The building, a towering glass structure shimmering in the sunlight, housed one of the city's most prestigious companies. Kinetica Industries. They were known for their groundbreaking technology and humanitarian efforts, advancing medical equipment and energy supply that had revolutionized the industry. It was a dream job, almost impossible to turn down.

You stumbled upon the opportunity by chance. A late night scrolling through endless job listings led you to Kinetica's website. The company was looking for someone with your exact skills: data analysis and project management. The job description was vague but intriguing. Analyzing trends, managing large datasets, coordinating with various departments. It sounded challenging yet rewarding, the kind of opportunity you needed to prove yourself. The application process was quick, almost too quick. A few online assessments, a virtual interview with a charming man who headed your department, and within a week, you were offered the job. They said they were impressed by your resume, your background in bioinformatics, and your impeccable reputation. The salary was more than generous, with benefits that seemed almost too good to be true. But eager to start fresh and leave the stagnation of your previous job behind, you didn't question it further. You accepted immediately.

Your first day was a whirlwind of activity. The office itself was as impressive as the building's exterior. Elegant, modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a panoramic view of the city. The air buzzed with innovation, with teams of people tirelessly working on the next big thing. You were given a tour, introduced to your colleagues. Bright, motivated people who all seemed to share your enthusiasm for the work. Your role was exactly as described, but with a small twist. You were part of a special project they called "The Initiative." It involved collecting and analyzing data from various sources to create predictive models that could be used for everything from disease prevention to energy distribution. It sounded noble, and you were thrilled to be part of something that could change the world.

But as you settled into your new role, you couldn't help but notice the layers of secrecy surrounding certain aspects of your work. Some files were restricted, accessible only with special clearance. Occasionally, your requests for specific datasets were met with vague answers or outright refusal. But whenever doubts arose, you reminded yourself that every company had its secrets, especially one as influential as Kinetica.

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit office in the underground levels of S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters, Natasha Fury sat across from you, the tension in the air almost palpable. "Romanoff," Fury began, his single eye piercing through the twilight, "we have a problem. Kinetica Industries." Natasha leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. "The tech company? They've been on our radar for a while, haven't they?"

"They have." Fury confirmed. "But new intel suggests they're more than just a tech company. We believe they're a front for something far more dangerous. We suspect they're involved in illegal arms trading, possibly even human experimentation. But we need proof." Natasha nodded, understanding where this was going. "And that's where I come in."

"Exactly. We've identified someone on the inside, Y/N Y/L/N. She's new, only started about a week ago. As far as we can tell, she's clean. No criminal record, no ties to any organizations. She's the perfect target to infiltrate." Natasha leaned forward, studying the file Fury slid across the table. Your face stared back at her from the photo clipped to the top of the file, a bright smile, eyes full of hope. Natasha couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt, but she pushed it aside. This was a mission, and she had a job to do.

"What's the plan?" she asked, flipping through the file. "You'll go undercover as someone with a similar background, a data analyst, someone they might hire if the current employee doesn't work out. Your task is to gain her trust, find out what Y/n knows. If she's innocent, she might unknowingly be sitting on crucial information. If not.."

"I'll find out," Natasha finished, her voice cold and determined. Fury nodded, satisfied. "We need to act fast. Every day we wait is another day Kinetica could move their operations. I'm counting on you, Romanoff." Natasha stood up, tucking the file under her arm. "I won't let you down."

As she left Fury's office, her thoughts were already spinning with possibilities, strategies, and the cool detachment that came with every undercover mission. She knew this wouldn't be easy. You were innocent, or at least you seemed to be. But Natasha had learned the hard way that appearances could be deceiving. Her mission was clear: get close to you, gather the information, and expose Kinetica for what they really were. But as she prepared to step into your world, Natasha couldn't shake the feeling that this mission would become more complicated than she anticipated.

Your first weeks at Kinetica Industries were a whirlwind of new faces, complex datasets, and an overwhelming amount of information. You were slowly getting used to the office routine when you heard about the new hire. Natalie Rushman, as she was introduced, joined the team on a bright Monday morning. You first heard about her during the daily briefing. Your department head mentioned that Natalie was hired to assist with data analysis, given the increasing workload from "The Initiative."

"I want you to show her the ropes." Your boss said, his tone implying it was not a request. "She has a similar background to you, and I think you two will work well together." You nodded, trying to hide the concern you felt about being responsible for training someone so soon after starting yourself. You hadn't fully mastered your own tasks yet, and now you were supposed to mentor someone else? But you forced a smile and agreed, hoping that Natalie would be as easygoing as she seemed in her brief introduction.

It wasn't until later in the morning that you finally met her. You were in the office kitchen, struggling with the intricate espresso machine that seemed designed to torment anyone who wasn't a seasoned barista. You had managed to spill coffee grounds everywhere when you heard someone clear their throat behind you.

You turned around and saw Natalie standing there, a slight smile on her lips. Her red hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, and she wore a white blouse and tailored black pants that made her look effortlessly professional. "Need some help?" Natalie asked, her voice warm and slightly amused. You laughed, embarrassed to be caught in the middle of your coffee disaster. "I think this machine was designed by someone who hates caffeine addicts."

Natalie stepped forward, gently nudging you aside. "Mind if I give it a try? I've had my fair share of battles with these things."

"Be my guest." you replied gratefully, stepping back. Natalie moved with practiced ease, quickly coaxing the machine into cooperation and brewing two perfect cups of espresso. She handed you one, which you accepted with a wide grin. "You're a lifesaver." you said, taking a sip. The coffee was perfectm. Rich, smooth, and exactly what you needed to get through the rest of the day. "I'm Y/n, by the way. I'm supposed to show you around today."

"Natalie." she replied, her smile deepening. "And I appreciate the help. The first days are always a bit overwhelming."

"Don't I know it.." you said, rolling your eyes playfully. "I'm still trying to figure out where half the supplies are kept around here." Natalie laughed, a genuine but slightly guarded sound, as if she was still feeling out her new environment. "I'm sure we'll figure it out together. So, what exactly are we working on?" You began explaining the project to her, giving her an overview of "The Initiative" and what your roles would be. As you spoke, you noticed that Natalie was a good listener, nodding at the right moments and asking insightful questions. It was clear she knew what she was talking about, and you felt a little more at ease, knowing you weren't dealing with a complete novice.

"So," Natalie said as you walked back to the office with your coffees in hand, "what made you decide to work here?" You shrugged, trying to put your thoughts into words. "I guess I wanted to be part of something bigger, you know? Kinetica is doing some amazing things..or at least that's what they tell us. It's nice to think that the work we're doing here might actually make a difference."

Natalie nodded thoughtfully, as if considering her own reasons for being here. "I can understand that. It's nice to feel like what you're doing matters." You arrived at your desk, which was temporarily doubling as Natalie's workspace until hers was ready. You showed her how to log into the system, where to find the files she needed, and how to navigate the company's complex database. As you worked together, you noticed how quickly Natalie picked everything up. She seemed almost too proficient, as if she knew the system better than someone on their first day should. But you brushed the thought aside, some people were just quick learners, you thought.

The day passed smoothly, with the two of you working side by side and getting to know each other in small increments between tasks. Natalie was friendly but reserved, sharing just enough about herself to seem open without giving too much away. You found that you liked your new colleague, appreciating her calm demeanor and quick mind.

By the end of the day, you had made significant progress on your tasks, and you were starting to feel a sense of camaraderie with Natalie. As you prepared to leave, you turned to her with a smile. “Thanks for today, Natalie. You made my job a lot easier.” Natalie returned the smile, her green eyes sparkling in the fading daylight. “The feeling is mutual. I think we’re going to make a great team.” You nodded, feeling a warmth in your chest that you hadn’t expected. Maybe this new job wouldn’t be so overwhelming after all..

In the weeks that followed, the bond between you and Natalie deepened, evolving from a close friendship into something more intense, something charged. There was a tension between you that neither of you could ignore, a pull that grew stronger with every shared glance, every lingering touch. You had danced around your feelings for each other for a while, but the unspoken words were becoming harder to bear.

One evening, after another long day at the office, you found yourselves alone in the break room once again. The city lights cast a soft glow through the windows, the hum of the air conditioning the only sound breaking the silence. You sat closer than usual, your shoulders touching as you picked at the remnants of a shared dinner. Your heart raced, the proximity making it difficult to focus on anything other than the warmth of Natalie’s body next to yours.

“Natalie..” you began hesitantly, “I need to tell you something.” Natalie looked up from her food, her green eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that took your breath away. “What is it?”

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I..I’ve been trying to understand these feelings I have for you.. I never thought I’d feel this way about someone I work with, but I can’t keep pretending it’s not there. I care about you, Natalie. More than just as a friend.” The words hung heavy in the air between you, filled with the weight of their honesty. You watched Natalie closely, searching her face for any sign of rejection or discomfort. But what you saw instead was a softening in her expression, a warmth that she hadn’t fully shown before.

“Y/n,” Natalie said softly, reaching out to take your hand, “I feel the same way. I’ve tried to keep my distance, to stay professional, but..I can’t help it. I love you.�� Your heart leaped at her confession, your pulse quickening as the truth settled between you. “You.. you love me?”

Natalie nodded, her thumb gently stroking the back of your hand. “Yes, I do. And I’ve been so scared of what that means, but I can’t deny it any longer. I love you, Y/n.” The relief that washed over you was almost overwhelming, and without thinking, you leaned in and pressed your lips to Natalie’s in a kiss that was soft, tentative, and filled with all the emotions you had both been holding back.

Natalie responded immediately, her hand coming up to cup your cheek as she deepened the kiss, letting all her unspoken feelings flow into it. It was a moment of pure connection, where nothing else existed but the two of you and the love you shared. When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, your foreheads resting against each other as you tried to process what had just happened.

“I can’t believe this is real..” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion. “It is,” Natalie murmured, her eyes shining with affection. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, everything felt perfect. But as the warmth of the moment began to fade, a sharp pang of guilt pierced Natasha’s heart. She had just confessed her love to you, but the truth was far more complicated than she could admit. She wasn’t just Natalie Rushman, a data analyst who had fallen for her colleague..she was Natasha Romanoff, a spy sent to gather information from the woman she had just professed her love to.

As you sat there, your hand still in hers, Natasha knew she was at a crossroads. She had sworn to get the information she needed, to complete the mission no matter what. But now, with the thought of betraying you, her stomach twisted with guilt. “Y/n,” Natasha began, her voice heavy with what she was about to say, “I want us to be completely honest with each other. Totally honest. I need to know..is there anything about our project, about Kinetica, that seems strange to you? Anything that doesn’t add up?”

You frowned slightly, confused by the sudden change in topic. “What do you mean?” Natasha hesitated, hating herself for what she had to do, but knowing she had no choice. “I’ve just..noticed a few things that don’t quite fit. Some files that are restricted, some data that doesn’t quite match up. I thought maybe you’d noticed it too.” Your brow furrowed as you thought back over the past few months. “Well, there have been a few things that seemed odd, but I just figured it was part of working at such a high-level company. Why do you ask?”

Natasha swallowed hard, forcing herself to keep up the pretense. “I’m just worried, that’s all. I want to make sure we’re not missing anything important.” You nodded slowly, still puzzled but trusting Natalie’s concern. “I’ll keep an eye out, and if I notice anything, I’ll let you know. But..can we not talk about work right now? I just want to enjoy this moment with you.”

Natasha’s heart clenched at your words, the guilt threatening to overwhelm her. She had just used your moment of vulnerability to fish for information, and the realization made her feel sick. But she forced herself to push the guilt aside, to focus on the mission, even as it tore her apart inside. “Of course.” Natasha said softly, pulling you closer and kissing you again, trying to lose herself in the warmth and love she felt for you.

Weeks passed, and the bond between you and Natalie grew even deeper. Your relationship had blossomed into something beautiful, a refuge in the midst of the high-pressure jobs at Kinetica Industries. You spent as much time together as possible..dinners, quiet nights with movies, and long walks through the city. For you, it felt like you had finally found someone who understood you, someone you could trust completely. But for Natasha, the lines between her mission and her feelings for you were becoming increasingly blurred.

The guilt Natasha felt was a constant companion, gnawing at her whenever she saw your trusting smile or felt the warmth of your hand in hers. Natasha knew she was deceiving you, but every time she considered telling you the truth, the weight of her duty as an agent held her back. She had a job to do, and despite her feelings, she couldn’t abandon it.

One evening, after a particularly long day at the office, you invited Natasha to your place. You were behind on some work and needed to finish a report for the next day, but you didn’t want to miss out on spending time with Natalie. Natasha agreed, glad for any excuse to spend more time with you.

Your apartment was cozy and inviting, filled with the little details Natasha had come to love. Bookshelves overflowing with novels, a small collection of plants by the window, and a few framed photos of you with your family. You settled together on the couch, you with your laptop and Natasha with a book she had picked from your shelf. “I’m sorry I have to work tonight..” you said, giving Natasha an apologetic smile. “I just need to finish this report, and then I’m all yours.”

“Don’t worry.” Natasha replied with a smile of her own. “I’m just happy to be here with you. Take your time.” As you focused on your work, Natasha found herself watching you more than reading the book in her hands. The way your brow furrowed slightly when you were deep in thought, the absent-minded way you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. All of it made Natasha’s heart ache with affection and guilt. But as much as she wanted to lose herself in these feelings, Natasha couldn’t forget why she was there. This was an opportunity she couldn’t pass up. Your work might hold the key to the information S.H.I.E.L.D. needed, and Natasha had to take advantage of it, no matter how much it tore her up inside.

After about an hour, you stood up and stretched, yawning. “I need to make some tea. Want anything?”

Natasha nodded her head, giving you a reassuring smile. “This would be grate.” As you disappeared into the kitchen, Natasha’s heart pounded in her chest. This was her chance. She had to act quickly. She set the book aside and moved quietly to your laptop. The screen was still on, showing the report you were working on, but Natasha’s focus was on the folders and files scattered across the desktop. She opened one labeled “Project Data” her hands trembling slightly as she navigated through the documents.

Natasha scanned the files, her sharp eyes searching for anything that stood out or seemed significant. Most of the documents were routine. Xatasets, project reports, emails. But then she found something: a file titled “Confidential Research Notes.”

Her heart raced as she opened it and found a series of notes detailing experiments and datasets that she hadn’t seen before. It was more detailed than anything you had shown her at work, and as Natasha read through it, she realized it contained the kind of information S.H.I.E.L.D. had been looking for..details about Kinetica’s involvement in potentially illegal research, experiments that crossed ethical boundaries.

She heard the clink of a teacup in the kitchen, and panic surged through her. Quickly, Natasha copied the file onto a USB stick she had hidden in her bag. She had just closed the file when you returned, carrying twocups of tea. “Here you go.” you said with a smile, handing one of the cups to Natasha. “Thanks.” Natasha replied, taking the cup with slightly trembling hands and praying that you hadn’t noticed anything unusual.

You settled back down on the couch, taking a sip of your tea and letting out a contented sigh. “The report is almost done. After that, we can watch the movie you mentioned.” Natasha forced a smile, trying to push down the gnawing guilt and the tight knot in her stomach. “That sounds great.”

As you returned to your work, Natasha tried to relax, but the weight of what she had just done loomed over her. She had gathered the information she needed, but at the cost of betraying your trust. For the rest of the evening, Natasha was distant, her mind racing with thoughts of what would happen next.

You noticed the change in her demeanor and reached out to touch her arm, concern evident in your eyes. “Hey, is everything okay?” Natasha looked into your eyes, feeling her heart ache. “Yeah, I’m just..tired, I guess. It’s been a long day.”

You smiled gently and squeezed her arm. “I get it. We’ve both been working so hard lately. Let’s just relax tonight, okay? No more work, just us.” Natasha nodded, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Just us.” she repeated, her voice hollow. As you both snuggled up on the couch to watch the movie, Natasha tried to focus on the moment, to lose herself in the warmth of your presence. But no matter how hard she tried, the guilt and the knowledge of what she had done weighed heavily on her.

The following days were filled with an unbearable tension for Natasha. She knew she had to pass the information to S.H.I.E.L.D., but she dreaded what would happen when the truth came out. The time she spent with you, the smiles, the laughter, all felt tainted by the lie she was living. Finally, the day came when Natasha couldn’t put it off any longer. She knew she had to deliver the USB drive to S.H.I.E.L.D. The mission needed to be completed, but the thought of what that would mean for your relationship was almost too much to bear.

That evening, as you sat together at your kitchen table, your laptop open in front of you as you worked on another report, Natasha made her decision. She had to do this, even though it meant risking everything with you. But before she could leave, something happened that changed everything.

You called Natasha over, a confused look on your face. “Nat, can you look at something for me? This report doesn’t make sense.” Natasha’s heart skipped a beat, but she kept her expression neutral. “Sure, what’s going on?” she asked, walking over to the table.

You pointed at the screen, your brow furrowed in confusion. “I just got this email from my boss, and he attached this report. It’s about a security breach at Kinetica. They’re trying to figure out who accessed some confidential files..” Natasha’s blood ran cold, but she kept her voice steady. “A security breach? What files are they talking about?”

You scrolled through the report, your frown deepening. “It doesn’t say exactly, but it has something to do with our project. They’ve narrowed down the list of suspects, but I don’t recognize most of the names..except for one.”

You paused, your eyes widening as you focused on a name in the list: Natasha Romanoff.

“Natasha Romanoff?” you whispered, confusion and disbelief clear in your voice. You looked up at Natasha, searching her face for answers. “Wait, is that you? Is this some kind of mistake?”

Natasha felt the walls closing in on her. There was no more hiding, no more pretending. The truth was out, and there was no going back. “Y/n,” she began, her voice trembling, “I need you to listen to me.” You took a step back, fear and suspicion creeping into your eyes. “What do you mean?” you asked, your voice shaking.

Natasha’s heart broke at the sight of the fear in your eyes. “I’m still the same person, Y/n. I’m still me. But..I haven’t been honest with you.” Your hands shook as you hugged yourself, desperately trying to understand what was happening. “Who are you? Have you been lying to me this whole time?”

Tears welled up in Natasha’s eyes as she took a hesitant step toward you, but you flinched and stepped back. “Please, let me explain..” Natasha pleaded, her voice breaking. “My real name is Natasha Romanoff. I’m an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. I was sent here to gather information on Kinetica. But everything else..everything between us..it was real. My feelings for you, Y/n, are real.”

Your eyes darted around the room as if searching for something familiar, something to hold onto. But everything felt wrong. The woman you loved, the woman you trusted, was a stranger. “You used me?” you asked, your voice trembling with anger and fear. “You used me the whole time?”

“No!” Natasha said quickly, desperation creeping into her voice. “It started as a mission, yes, but I never meant to fall in love with you. I never wanted to hurt you. Please, Y/n, you have to believe me.” You shook your head, backing away until you hit the wall. “I don’t know what to believe anymore. I don’t even know who you are. Natasha Romanoff, S.H.I.E.L.D.… it sounds like something out of a Movie..”

Natasha’s heart shattered as she watched you crumble before her. She took a tentative step closer, her hands shaking. “I’m still the person you fell in love with, Y/n. I’m still the person who loves you more than anything. Please, let me explain everything.” You stared at Natasha, your heart breaking all over again. “You should have told me the truth from the beginning! But you didn’t. You lied to me, and now..now I don’t even know who you are..”

Natasha took another step forward, reaching out tentatively. “I’m so sorry, Y/n. I know I’ve hurt you, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I’m begging you, please give me a chance to make it right.” You looked down at Natasha’s outstretched hand, but the fear and betrayal in your heart were too overwhelming. You couldn’t bring yourself to take it. “I can’t..” you whispered, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this. I need you to leave.”

Natasha’s heart broke at your words, but she knew she had no right to ask for forgiveness, not now. “Y/n, I-”

“Just go!” you cried, your voice filled with agony. “Please, just go. I can’t look at you right now.” Natasha’s hands fell to her sides, her shoulders slumping as the weight of what she had done crashed down on her. She had lost you, and there was nothing she could do to fix it. But as much as it hurt, she knew she had to respect your wishes.

“I’m so sorry..” Natasha whispered, tears streaming down her face. “I love you, Y/n. I’ll always love you.” Without another word, Natasha turned and left your apartment, the door closing behind her with a finality that echoed through the empty space. You stood there, frozen, your heart shattered into a thousand pieces as the truth of Natasha’s betrayal washed over you. The apartment that once felt like a safe haven now felt cold and empty, the warmth of Natasha’s presence gone, replaced by a suffocating sense of loss. You slid down the wall, pulling your knees to your chest as your body shook with sobs. The woman you loved, the woman you trusted, was a lie, and you didn’t know if you could ever trust anyone again.

Hours passed, and eventually, your tears dried up, leaving you with a hollow feeling inside. But despite the pain, you couldn’t ignore the truth that Natasha had revealed. Kinetica was involved in something dangerous, something that needed to be stopped. And despite everything, you knew you couldn’t just walk away.

Slowly, you got to your feet, your resolve hardening. You would do what needed to be done, not for Natasha, but because it was the right thing to do. You walked over to your laptop and opened the files you had been working on. With a heavy heart, you gathered everything you knew about Kinetica’s activities, your hands shaking as you worked. The information you collected could help bring the company down, but it came at the cost of everything you believed in, everything you felt.

When you finished, you copied the files onto a USB stick and set it on the table. You stared at it for a long time, your thoughts filled with memories of the woman you thought you knew, the woman you loved. Finally, you took a deep breath and reached for your phone. You hesitated for a moment before dialing the number Natasha had given you, the one you were supposed to use only in an emergency.

Natasha answered on the first ring, her voice thick with emotion. “Y/n?”

“I have the information you need.” you said, your voice firm despite the storm of emotions raging inside you. “It’s on a USB stick. I’ll leave it at the café near my apartment tomorrow morning. You can pick it up there.”

“Y/n, please, can we talk-” Natasha began, but you cut her off.

“There’s nothing more to say.” you said quietly. "That's it, Natasha. After this, we're done. Don't contact me again."

A long silence followed on the other end of the line, and you could hear the pain in Natasha's voice when she finally spoke. "Thank you. I'm so sorry. For everything."

You swallowed the lump in your throat and tried to keep your emotions under control. "Goodbye, Natasha."

The mission was over. Kinetica Industries had been exposed, its leaders arrested, and the illegal activities shut down. Natasha had completed her assignment, but the victory felt hollow. As the dust settled, she could only think about you, how she had lost you and how desperate she was to make things right.

Days turned into weeks, and the absence of you in Natasha's life became unbearable. The empty silence in her apartment echoed the emptiness in her heart. She replayed the last conversation she had with you over and over in her mind, haunted by the pain in your voice, the cold finality of your words. Natasha knew she had no right to ask for forgiveness, but she couldn't live with the thought that you hated her, that the love you had shared was now just a memory tainted by lies. After much deliberation, Natasha decided she had to try one last time to explain herself and apologize in person. She knew it was a long shot..you had made it clear you didn't want to see her again but Natasha couldn't leave things the way they were. She had to try.

One evening, just as the sun was setting, Natasha made her way to your apartment. The familiar building loomed before her, but this time it felt different..colder, more intimidating. She hesitated at the entrance, her heart pounding in her chest. What if you refused to listen? What if you called the police before she even had a chance to say anything? But she knew she couldn't turn back now. She took a deep breath, entered the building, and walked to your door. She stood there for a long moment, gathering her thoughts before she finally raised her hand and knocked softly.

There was a long pause, and Natasha's heart sank as she imagined you ignoring her, refusing to even open the door. But then she heard footsteps approaching, and the door opened a crack, revealing your wary eyes. Your expression shifted from surprise to anger as soon as you saw Natasha. Your hand tightened around the doorknob, and you narrowed your eyes. "What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice cold and hard.

"Y/n, please, I just want to talk." Natasha said quickly, raising her hands in a gesture of surrender. "I know I don't deserve it, but I need to explain-" You cut her off, your voice sharp with anger. "Explain? There's nothing left to explain, Natasha. You lied to me, used me, and now you have the nerve to show up at my door?"

"Please.." Natasha pleaded, her voice breaking. "Give me five minutes." Your eyes flashed with a mix of anger, pain, and something else that Natasha couldn't quite place. You hesitated, your hand still gripping the doorknob as if you were weighing whether to slam the door in her face. "If you don't leave right now." you said, your voice trembling with barely suppressed emotion, "I'll call the police."

Natasha felt her heart sink, but she didn't move. She knew you were serious, but she also knew that if she walked away now, she would never have another chance to make things right. "Do it." Natasha said quietly, "Call them if you want. But please, hear me out first. I need to show you how sorry I am. I know I can't undo what I've done, but I can't live with myself if I don't at least try to apologize."

You stared at Natasha, your hand shaking as you gripped the doorknob. The pain in your eyes was unmistakable, and it broke Natasha's heart to see how much she had hurt you. For a long moment, neither of you spoke, the tension between you thick and suffocating. Finally, you let out a shaky breath and loosened your grip on the doorknob. "You have five minutes," you said, "But if you lie to me again, I swear I'll call the police."

Natasha nodded, relief washing over her even though she knew this was only a small victory. "Thank you." she whispered, stepping back as you opened the door just enough to let her in. You led Natasha into the living room, a space that had once felt warm and inviting but now felt cold and distant. You gestured for Natasha to sit on the sofa, but you remained standing, arms crossed over your chest as you waited for her to speak.

"Okay," Natasha began, her voice trembling, "I know I've hurt you in a way I can never fully apologize for. I deceived you and betrayed your trust. But I need you to know that every moment I spent with you, every touch, every word I said to you, was real. My feelings for you are real." Your eyes flashed with anger, and you shook your head. "How am I supposed to believe that? You're a trained spy. Lying is part of your job."

"I know.." Natasha said, her voice breaking slightly. "And that's why I'm not asking for your forgiveness. I know I don't deserve it. But I couldn't leave things the way they were. I couldn't let you believe that everything between us was just part of the mission. It wasn't. You became the most important person in my life, and I was so scared of losing you."

"Then why didn't you tell me the truth?" you asked, your voice trembling with pent-up emotion. "Why did you wait until I had to find out this way?" Natasha swallowed hard, tears welling up in her eyes. "Because I was a coward. I didn't want to lose you, and I thought that if I could just finish the mission, maybe..just maybe we could have a life together afterward. But I was wrong. I should have been honest with you from the start."

You shook your head, tears filling your eyes as well. "You should have. But you didn't. And now I don't know if I can ever trust you again." A tear rolled down Natasha's cheek, but she made no move to wipe it away. "I understand." she said softly. "I know I've broken your trust, and I have to live with that. I just wanted you to know that I love you, Y/n. I will always love you. And if you never want to see me again, I'll respect that. But please don't think that I didn't care about you, because I do."

You looked away, blinking back tears. "You should go, Natasha. There's nothing more to say." Natasha nodded, her heart breaking all over again. "I'm sorry." she whispered, her voice barely audible. "For everything."

Without another word, Natasha turned and walked to the door, her steps heavy with the weight of the finality of the situation. She paused in the doorway, casting one last look at you, hoping to find something..anything that might suggest there was still a chance for you both. But your expression remained cold and distant, your eyes avoiding hers. With a heavy heart, Natasha opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. The door clicked shut behind her with a soft thud that echoed in the silence that followed. Natasha stood there for a moment, letting the reality of what had just happened sink in. She had tried, but it was over. You were right. There was nothing more to say.

Unknown to you, the case of Kinetica’s downfall was far from over. The company’s leaders were desperately trying to cover their tracks, attempting to salvage what they could. But amid the chaos, they discovered something alarming: You, one of their employees, had been the one to pass on the damning information that had led to their downfall. And now they wanted revenge.

You were alone in your apartment one evening, your thoughts drifting as you tried to focus on the book you were reading. The quiet was soothing, a respite from the whirlwind of emotions you had been grappling with. But that peace was abruptly shattered by a sudden, insistent knocking at your door. Frowning, you set the book aside and walked to the door, peering through the peephole. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw two men standing outside, men you didn’t recognize, but something about their presence immediately set off alarm bells in your head.

“Who is it?” you called out, trying to keep your voice steady despite the unease rising within you. “Delivery.” one of the men said, but there was no package in sight, and his tone was too cold, too rehearsed.

Your instincts kicked in, and you stepped away from the door, your heart racing. These weren’t delivery men..they were here for something else, something far more sinister. Panic gripped you as you realized that Kinetica must have found out what you had done. Just as you were about to reach for your phone, the door burst open with a loud crash, the two men forcing their way in. You screamed and stumbled back, your thoughts racing with fear and desperation. But before they could reach you, another figure appeared in the doorway, moving with deadly precision. Natasha.

She had been keeping an eye on your apartment since your last conversation, knowing that Kinetica might try something. When she saw the men approaching your building, she knew immediately what their target was and she wasn’t going to let them harm you. “Get away from her.” Natasha snarled, her voice cold and dangerous.

The men turned to face Natasha, but they barely had time to react before she was on them. In a blur of motion, she disarmed the first man, sending his weapon skittering across the floor. The second man lunged at her, but she easily dodged and delivered a powerful kick to his stomach, sending him crashing into the wall. You watched in stunned silence as Natasha took down the men with brutal efficiency, her movements fluid and controlled. The fight was over in seconds, the two men lying unconscious on the floor as Natasha stood over them, breathing heavily.

For a moment, the apartment was eerily silent, the only sound the ragged breaths of the two women. Your heart pounded in your chest, your mind struggling to process what had just happened. Natasha turned to you, her expression a mixture of concern and relief. “Are you okay?” she asked, her voice softer now, laced with the fear she had tried to suppress.

You nodded slowly, your eyes wide as you stared at Natasha. “I..I think so..” you stammered, still trying to grasp everything. “What..what are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t leave you unprotected.” Natasha said, stepping closer, her eyes full of guilt and love. “I knew Kinetica might come after you. I couldn’t let that happen.” Your gaze flickered to the unconscious men on the floor, then back to Natasha. “You..you saved me.”

Natasha nodded, her heart aching at the vulnerability in your voice. “I will always protect you. No matter what’s happened between us, I’ll always be here for you.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at Natasha, the woman who had lied to you, who had betrayed you, but who had also just saved your life. The fear and anger you had been holding onto began to waver, replaced by a deep, conflicting emotion you couldn’t fully understand. “Why?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because I love you.” Natasha said, her voice heavy with emotion. “I know I’ve hurt you, and I know you may never forgive me, but I had to make sure you were safe. You mean everything to me, Y/n.”

Your heart broke at the sincerity in Natasha’s voice. Despite everything, despite the lies and betrayal, Natasha’s love for you was real. And in that moment, you realized that your own feelings were just as complicated. You were angry, you were hurt, but you still loved her..more than you wanted to admit.

The two of you stood in silence, the weight of your emotions heavy in the air. Your mind raced with conflicting thoughts, torn between the betrayal you felt and the undeniable connection that still existed between you. Finally, you took a shaky breath. “I don’t know if I can forgive you, Natasha..” you said quietly. “But I can’t ignore what you just did for me. You saved my life. And..and I still care about you. I don’t know what that means, but I need time to figure it out.”

Natasha nodded, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked at you. “Take all the time you need.” she whispered. “I’ll be here, no matter what you decide.” You nodded hesitantly, the storm of emotions inside you beginning to calm. “Thank you.” you said softly, your voice barely audible.

Natasha stepped back, giving you the space you needed. “I’ll take care of this.” she said, gesturing to the unconscious men on the floor. “And then I’ll go, if that’s what you want.” You looked at Natasha, your heart heavy with everything that had happened between you. “I don’t know what I want..” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I think..I think I need to be alone right now.”

Natasha nodded, her eyes reflecting the understanding she felt, even though the pain was clear. “I understand.” she said quietly. “Just know that if you ever need anything, anything at all, I’m here.”

You didn’t respond, but the look in your eyes said enough. You stood there, watching as Natasha efficiently secured the two men, ensuring they wouldn’t pose any further threat. She worked in silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of you. When Natasha was finished, she stood by the door, hesitating for a moment as if searching for the right words, but then deciding against saying anything more. With one last, sorrowful glance in your direction, she turned and left your apartment, the door closing softly behind her.

You stood frozen in place, your mind reeling from everything that had just happened. The apartment, which had been filled with tension and violence just moments ago, now felt eerily quiet. Slowly, you sank onto the couch, your body trembling as the reality of the situation settled over you.

You were filled with so many conflicting emotions that it was hard to sort through them all. Anger, fear, relief, affection..they all swirled within you, and you didn’t know how to make sense of them. You had asked Natasha to leave because you weren’t sure of anything anymore. And though it felt like the right thing to do, now that she was gone, you felt a cold emptiness spreading through your chest. A part of you wanted to call her back, wanted her to stay so you could work through these chaotic feelings together. But another part of you knew that you needed time to be alone, to sort through everything that had happened between the two of you.

The night passed in a blur of thoughts and emotions, with sleep coming only in brief, restless intervals. When morning finally came, you felt just as exhausted as you had the night before. But with the new day came a certain clarity. You knew you couldn’t stay in this limbo forever. Natasha had told you that she would always be there for you, and you believed her. But the question was whether you could let her back into your life, whether you could ever trust her again.

As the day dragged on, you tried to focus on mundane tasks, but thoughts of Natasha kept intruding. Finally, after hours of agonizing, you decided you needed more information to figure out a path forward. If there was any chance of peace or understanding between you, you needed to know the whole truth. The next day, you called Natasha. She answered immediately, and you could hear the mix of hope and concern in her voice. “Y/n?”

“I want to know everything.” you said, your voice firm even as your heart raced. “I can’t move on without understanding everything. No more secrets, no more lies. If there’s any chance for us to find peace, you need to show me everything.”

There was a brief silence on the other end of the line before Natasha spoke, her voice filled with relief and caution. “I understand. I’ll take you to S.H.I.E.L.D. You’ll have access to everything, my reports, the mission files. Whatever you need to know.”

You nodded, even though she couldn’t see it. “Okay. When can we go?”

“Right now.” Natasha said without hesitation. “I’ll come pick you up.”

True to her word, Natasha arrived at your apartment shortly after. The drive to the S.H.I.E.L.D. building was silent, the tension between you both palpable. Natasha stole worried glances at you from time to time, but you kept your gaze fixed out the window, lost in your thoughts. When you arrived at the unassuming building that housed S.H.I.E.L.D.’s operations, Natasha guided you through a series of security checks, her presence and clearance making the process smooth. You followed her, your heart pounding with a mix of fear and curiosity. This was a world you never imagined you would be a part of.

Finally, you arrived in a large conference room. Natasha gestured for you to take a seat at the table while she went to a console on the wall and entered a series of commands. The large screen in the room flickered to life, displaying a series of files and documents. “This is everything.” Natasha said quietly, turning to face you. “My mission files, the reports I sent, the details of Kinetica’s operations. You have full access.”

You stared at the screen, your heart racing. “Why are you doing this? Why are you showing me all of this?”

“Because I owe you the truth.” Natasha replied, her voice steady but laced with emotion. “And because I want you to know that I’m not hiding anything from you anymore. I know I broke your trust, but I want to do whatever it takes to rebuild it. Even if that means showing you everything.”

The next few hours were spent going through everything, the initial mission briefing, how Natasha was assigned to get close to you to gather information on Kinetica, and how she struggled with her growing feelings for you. She explained how she tried to keep you out of harm's way even as she fulfilled her mission, and how every moment you shared, despite the circumstances, had been genuine.

You listened intently, absorbing every word, every detail. There were moments when your anger flared up again, moments when you wanted to shout at Natasha for the betrayal, for the pain she had caused. But there were also moments of understanding, moments when you saw the inner conflict Natasha had gone through, torn between her duty and her growing love for you.

When Natasha finished, she looked at you, her heart pounding in her chest. “I know this doesn’t undo the lies, but I wanted you to see that I truly cared about you. I never wanted to hurt you, Y/n.” You remained silent for a long time, processing everything you had learned. You felt raw, exposed, but also strangely relieved. This was what you had needed. the full truth, with nothing held back.

Finally, you looked at Natasha, your expression unreadable. “You were honest with me today, Natasha, and I can feel that. For the first time, I feel like I’m really seeing you..with all your strengths and flaws, with all your mistakes.” Natasha nodded, her voice soft as she responded, “That’s all I wanted. To be honest with you, even if it costs me everything.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples as you tried to organize your thoughts. “I don’t know where we go from here, Natasha. I don’t know if I can ever fully trust you again. But..I see that you’re trying. And that means something.” Natasha felt a small spark of hope ignite in her chest, but she didn’t dare let it grow too large. “Thank you, Y/n. That’s more than I deserve.”

You looked at Natasha, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and something that resembled hope. "Maybe it’s a start. I don’t know what the future holds for us, but at least now I know the truth. And that’s more than I had before.”

Natasha nodded, her heart heavy, but she was grateful. “Whatever happens, I’m here. If you need space, I’ll give you that. If you want to talk, I’ll listen. I won’t go away.” You managed a small, tired smile. “I guess we’ll just have to see where this takes us.”

You both left the S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters together, the tension between you eased but the future still uncertain. As you stepped out into the bright afternoon sun, Natasha glanced at you, and for the first time in weeks, she felt a cautious spark of hope. You caught her glance and sighed. “It’s going to take time, Natasha. I don’t know if things can ever be the way they were, but.. we can find something new. Something honest.”

Natasha nodded, her heart swelling with emotion. “That’s what I’d like.” As you walked side by side, the past still loomed over you, but for the first time, there was a path forward..a path that might lead to healing, to forgiveness, and maybe even to a future where you could rebuild what had been broken. The road ahead would be difficult, full of challenges and doubts, but you had taken the first step together. And for now, that was enough.

[pasta-in-the-pudding]

This just popped up in my mind and I just wnated you to picture this

So imagine a teen kid coming to the slendermanor and obviously they're a teen so everyone expects them to be loud and trouble in general because teens are teens at the end of the day. Just to find out that the teen is actually very mature because they were forced into a situation where they had to be mature at a young age and they're just quiet(but also have mad good murder tactics). Like i just imagine jeff trying to scare the child for shits and giggles and they just stare at him like 🙂

Summary: Quiet teen reader gets into shenanigans in the manor

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: None

A/n: The battle between Jeff and children is an age old war that I don't see ending anytime soon. ALSO SIDE NOTE, I'm probably gonna be changing up my format for writing majorly soon because im tired of looking at it lolz

Credits: Any Creepypasta characters used- Creepypasta, Divider- saradika-graphics, Picture- Pinterest

Creeps x mature!teen!reader

Generally when kids are brought into the manor, everyone's vibe is "Aw man that's really sad :(" even if they are a teen

Of course, once they get over the sadness, the anxiety starts peeking through

Like not even just teens, all kids are rowdy and annoying so no one really wants to deal with that

So when you get there and you're chill they're like "oh thank god"

No one likes rowdy kids

However, even that can have its hinderances

Like, it's definetly nothing as bad as you being crazy around the manor, but more so just concerning habits

For example, Brian can never do his job as a caretaker, because he'll be coming down the stairs only to see that all of his assigned kids are already out of bed

And when he finally finds them, they are watching T.V

He will ask "Are you guys ready for breakfast?" and they will reply "No thanks, y/n fed us!"

Or E.J, who as we know can't stand dirty things or unhygienic things, will be so confused when that pile of trash he commented on is suddenly gone only a few minutes later

Or his fridge will magically be cleaned out right when he was about to go and do it

Toby will be wondering where on earth his favorite hoodie and hatches went, only to find you out back sharpening and cleaning them, and his hoodie in the washer

Everyone is grateful for your help and all, but it's a little strange?

Like why do you feel the need to do these things? Do you just like helping out or do you feel you need to?

Then there's Ben and Jeff

No fucks given

So what if you're like 13? Jeff was being lit on fire at that age, grow tf up 🙄

Anyways, they both get a kick out of scaring kids

Jeff more than Ben, but it's a fun little friendship activity they do together <333

So when you are exploring the manor one day, suddenly Jeff bumps into you, being waaay nicer than usual

"Hey, y/n! I was just looking for you!"

"Oh, Hello Jeff. Did you need something?"

He'll grin real big and hold your shoulders "Yeah, I just need to test something real quick, so don't move. Just stay exactly like this, kay?"

You nod and do as told, but Jeff doesn't move either, he just stands still, still holding onto your shoulders and staring into your eyes

You then feel a chill go up your spine, and all of a sudden a horrifying warped face that looks as if it was straight out of an analog horror jumps right in front of you

You do jump a little, but other than that, there's no reaction

Jeff immediately drops the act and lets go of you "Ugh, really? Whatever loser, I'll go find someone else to scare"

And with that, he stomps off, but Ben stays for a little bit, his face still contorted into that scary one

He wiggles his fingers and makes an "Oooooo" sound before also walking off behind Jeff

They lose interest in you very quickly after realizing you won't give them a satisfactory reaction

[dilemmars]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“ DIE WITH A SMILE. ”⠀⠀───⠀⠀arcane.

⠀⠀𝖾𝗉𝗂𝗌𝗈𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝖾𝖾.⠀( the base violence necessary for change , 9.3k words. )⠀by dilemmars.

1.⠀⠀ PAIRING⠀⠀:⠀⠀violet x f!reader.

2.⠀⠀GENRES⠀⠀:⠀⠀based on the storyline and universe of arcane ( league of legends tv show )⠀; first love trope, started dating recently, stablished relationship, exes to lovers. basically you and vi were dating before the start of the story, then got separated.

3.⠀⠀WARNINGS⠀⠀:⠀⠀i will add the warnings that the tv show has: slight presence of sex and nudity, foul language, alcohol, drugs and tobacco. moderate scenes of fear and terror. high content of violence and gore. in this third chapter, there's a lot going on. mentions of death, injuries, prostitution, blood, fights, and a brief suicidal thought at the end. please do not read if you're uncomfortable with it.

4.⠀⠀AUTHOR 'S NOTE⠀⠀:⠀⠀third chapter out! i'm so sorry thta it took me another full day to post a new chapter. i haven't even watched act 3 yet because i lit have no time, but i managed to finish this. it is very sad. i'm sorry about that too. but next chapter will be slightly more relaxed, with less drama, i promise. happy sunday 🤍

5.⠀⠀IMPORTANT⠀⠀:⠀⠀this is a work of fiction. i do not own arcane or any content produced or owned bychristian linke, alex yee, riot games or netflix. all rights belong to netflix and the writers of arcane. all plot events and character developments that are not related to the main character's story belong to the writers and creators of the series.

It's hard to know what your last breath will be, but sometimes you can feel the moment lurking, like a shadow looming over you, icy and heavy. Crouched on that rooftop, the air had a strange edge to it, as if each breath cut inside. The mist rising from the streets scratched at your throat, but it wasn't just mist. It was the weight of the inevitable.

You paused, frowning, as the usual swaying of the wooden sign of Benzo's caused your gaze to wander towards the entrance of the shop. And before you could comprehend what was happening, the scream came as a jolt, tearing through the silence of the night. It was as if the sound pierced your skin, sinking into your flesh, clinging to your bones. The kind of scream you can't help but hear, a gasp ripped from a throat. A hopeless, desperate voice that forces you to imagine the pain behind it. One last breath, and a body slumped to the ground.

And then, you caught a glimpse of him. A blurred figure, moving with a ferocity that seemed unnatural, unloading a punch on another uniformed officer, the glare of his gaze utterly animalistic. You cowered over the edge of the building, struggling not to look away, and flinched at the brutality of the pounding. The Enforcers all looked the same, with the metal mask and the blue cap, but the creature that had attacked them was familiar. It seemed less human with every movement, a mass of disfigured flesh and purplish meandering veins, but the curve of its chin, the soft wave of its hair... you had been so close to its face that you had come to memorise it.

Deckard. You recognised the sharp turn of his movements, accentuated in that state. You had felt his violence in your own skin, you knew it. Altered into a violent beast, he still retained some of that cruel strength, no doubt hindered by the way his body had grown and deformed. You saw him ignore the authoritative warning of a third Enforcer, and approach her at superhuman speed. In the blink of an eye, the police collapsed at his feet, like a drunk by a tavern door. Her blood spilled down the wall of the tent, sloshing everywhere, and you followed it with your eyes as it slid between the stones, thick, after Deckard had torn her flesh to the bone.

The force of his attack hit you like a shot in your chest, and you clutched at the concrete beneath your hands as if you could somehow anchor yourself to the past. There was silence in the weathered street. You could only hear your ragged breathing, quickening under your skin, and Deckard's silent footsteps as he disappeared. Night had fallen on Zaun like a blanket on your bed, and you felt it on your shoulders, suffocating you. You looked down again, where the rickety bodies of the agents lay like broken dolls on the pavement, their stiff fingers still gripping their pistols, and you could faintly distinguish the movement of someone approaching them in the shadows.

Measuring his pace, as if calculating every step he took, a fourth Enforcer approached the bodies of the fallen agents, his service gun in his hand, and he hesitated. For a moment you wanted to say something to him, to warn him perhaps, that there was a beast loose in the darkness, tell him to run away while he could, but a movement in the dusk stopped you. He was not alone. Behind him, shoulder to shoulder at the entrance to the shop, two frozen figures watched the scene. You felt a knot in your chest as you recognised them: Vander and Benzo. Their stances looked sharp, like a taut bow about to shoot an arrow, ready to defend themselves if necessary.

You leaned forward, caught between the urge to descend and the helplessness of knowing you could do nothing from up there, but something stopped you. You saw something dancing in the fog, the soft walk of a distorted silhouette slowly approaching from the other side of the street. You tried to suppress the shiver that ran down your spine, a shiver that was not only cold, but that also contained more than just that, the fear locked in your ribcage, rising up to feel it pulsing in your throat.

And then, the glow of embers in the night: a kaleidoscope of shadows and flames, pierced by a scar, so different from its twin that they looked like the eyes of two different people. The face, sharp, pale, and an imperturbable pace, so sure of himself that the ground seemed to tremble beneath his feet.

‘Silco?’ Benzo, hesitant, confused at first, turned rabid as he brandished the old silver candlestick in the direction of the unknown man. ‘You animal,’ he said, coming closer, stumbling, ’go crawl back into whatever hole you came out of.’

You couldn't see the venomous smile that tugged at Silco's thin lips, but you did hear the desperate tone torn from Vander's throat as he raised his hands towards his friend, cuffed, useless, trying to prevent the inevitable, ‘Benzo, stay back!’

‘You never did know when to walk away,’ Silco's voice, velvety, echoed down the street, emptying the silence, and your heart stopped inside your chest as Benzo tried to pounce on him.

The motion was too fast for the human eye. One instant, Benzo had raged forward, steadfast, defying the impassive man of mist. The next, Deckard's raw strength had brought Benzo down in a bundle of violet swirls, the body of the one who had cared for you since you were a child lying lifeless on the ground. The creaking of his bones echoed wet and dry at the same time, like tree branches snapping under too much weight, the blood surging beneath his shoulders, as if fleeing from the veins it was ceasing to flow through.

From the rooftop, it all seemed painfully distant. You brought a trembling hand to your mouth, a scream dying in your throat, watching Deckard keep his hand on Benzo's neck. His crooked fingers seemed to tingle from feeling the violence of death again, waiting, hovering over Benzo to check that he was gone, and you heard Vander's torn whimper, his legs buckling under his weight, under the weight of loss.

‘Stubborn to the end,’ muttered Silco, relishing each word with reverence.

But then the Enforcer left standing dropped his arms, defeated, betrayed, half-face covered by the mask they wore so as not to breathe Zaun's toxic air, and questioned Silco angrily, ‘What the hell have you done? This wasn't the deal!’

The echo of his words expanded, vibrating inside your head as if searching for a place to linger, and you stood still, watching from the shadows as that chilling scene unfolded, kneeling on the edge of the building, utterly overwhelmed.

‘Deal's changed.’

Silco's words reverberated on the cobblestone floor of the poorly lit street, ringing in your ears, as you tried to clear your mind. You took a breath of air, which cut, cold, down your throat, and looked down. You could still hear his voice, ominously calm and low, and the clink of coins clattering on the floor. A deal. Between the topside and the underground. You frowned, realising that there were no fire stairs on that front, and accentuated your frown as you tried to understand why someone from Zaun would want to ally himself with an Enforcer, of all people.

Before you could even try to slide down the wall, however, leaping from window to window as you had done in the past, you heard Deckard's heavy footsteps on the cobblestone floor, and you raised your head. He was slowly approaching Vander, with no sign of a reaction from the owner of The Last Drop, letting out a low growl as the beast finally took up a position in front of him. His arm swung once like the pendulum of an old clock, and the punch blew against Vander's face with a low, muffled thud, causing him to stagger under its weight.

Your throat closed as you watched him anchor his legs to the ground to keep from falling. You saw him drop his shoulders, defeated, as if he had forgotten his own strength, and he stood just as still as you did whilst Deckard shoved his hand through Vander's hair, grabbing him violently and pulling him to the ground. You watched him, because you were unable to do anything else, as if fear had slid liquid across your skin until it solidified around your ankles, the monstrous creature dragging Vander across the ground. 

It was the certainty. Vander, who had picked you up off the street at your weakest moment, who had taught you how to defend yourself, who had shown you the resilience that characterised him like a class while learning how to make Powder's favourite juice, had been reduced to a shadow of his former self by a punch. What could you have done to stop it? To stand between Vander and the one who had abused you as much as he had wanted? To face Deckard's vicious eyes once more, risking losing him all the same?

It wouldn't have helped.

You watched them walk, Silco's figure turning away from the chaos of shadows and death he left behind him, while Deckard followed close behind, gripping Vander's hair with a bruising strength. Your fingers itched. You had braided that hair many times, elaborate and funny designs as you grew up, but those hands were treating it cruelly, a monster freed of any kind of sentience. And it hurt. Watching them disappear into the fog, the Enforcer staggering down the street to the other side, it stung like an open wound. You bit your cheek, holding back the tears that threatened to slide down your skin, and felt the blood on your tongue like a foul aftertaste.

And then you heard it. The cry, choked and broken, that pierced your chest like a sharp knife. You stood up, waking the legs that had felt numb against the concrete edge of the rooftop, and moved on instinct, ignoring the insignificant discomfort of your ankle every time you leaned on it.

It was Vi. You slid across the roof, your feet seeking support on the nearest window ledge, hanging on to it to climb down to the next, and continued descending. You followed the heartbreaking sound of Vi's voice, drowning out her own sobs, and swallowed all the emotions you didn't want to feel, focused on finding your girlfriend. The polish of your nails peeled as you buried your fingers in joints between bricks, clinging to them to keep from falling to the ground, and you closed your eyes tightly before you took the last leap, placing most of your weight on your good foot as you landed on the ground.

You rose to your feet, a shiver running through your skin, as you heard the piercing cry of frustration, and turned to face it with a jolt. It had come from Benzo's shop. Had she been there all that time? You frowned, restless, and turned towards the massacre, clenching your jaw and staring straight ahead. You had to get Vi out of there. That was your priority. You couldn't afford to look at the ground, to collapse. Every breath you took, the air sounded slightly ragged, as if you were about to scream but held back, and you clenched your hands into fists as you dodged the bodies sprawled on the floor.

Your first step into Benzo's shop was hesitant, like an unconfident fawn's. You didn't want to think that it was the first time you would enter the place knowing that its owner would never come back to wait for you behind the counter, but the certainty came back to you again and again, as if brought by the tide. There was almost no light, the little oil lamps that were scattered around the shelves were off, as if they held a mourning you had not yet faced, and the darkness brought with it a feeling of coldness that dug into your bones.

‘Vi,’ you whispered, your choked voice faintly spilling across the room. ‘Vi!’ you repeated, louder.

You heard your name, low, dazed, almost vanishing into thin air, and tried to follow it. It was the storage room. She had been locked in the storeroom.

‘Wait!’ you said, rushing to the counter, ‘I'll get you out!’

You tried to piece together what had happened, your hand searching in the gloom for the spare key Benzo always kept in the wooden drawers. It was in Vi's nature to have tried to fix everything herself. It was inherent in her, to carry as much of the burden as possible so that her siblings —and even you, if you got into trouble— wouldn't have to suffer the consequences. You didn't know how she could have warned the Enforcers, but you knew they had come to Benzo's shop for her. You knew it as clearly as you knew you would have done the same for her if it had happened.

But if Vander had shown up, it was also because he had discovered her. And if he had been wearing the handcuffs, it had been him who had locked her in the storeroom. To stop her from doing another stupid thing. Maybe Vander wasn't her biological father, but a strained smile tugged at your lips at the thought that they were more alike than they allowed themselves to think they were.

When your fingertips brushed against the metal frame of the key, you grabbed onto it, running the few meters between the countertop and the door behind which Vi stood. Your hands trembled as you slid it into its lock, holding your breath as you tried a second time, and you turned it on its axis twice, as you had done so many times in the past, pulling the heavy door off its hinges so that you could wrap your arms around Vi's body.

She clung to you tightly, choking her sobs in the crook of your neck, and the silence grew heavy around you, empty of hope. You felt Vi's hands squeeze your shirt, squeezing your body against hers, her warm tears sliding down your skin. You looked up at the ceiling, letting out a shaky sigh between your lips, and ran your hand up her back until it was tangled in her hair. Her shoulders shook under your touch to the rhythm of her own sobs, and you stayed still beside her for as long as she needed, allowing her to collapse.

‘Did you see what happened?’ you finally murmured against her hair, as her breathing slowly regulated.

‘Not much,’ she replied, her voice broken by tears, pulling away from you to rub her hands across her face. ‘Did you?’

‘It was Benzo...’ you began, and you hated the way you faltered before continuing. ‘They killed Benzo. And the Enforcers, some of them...’

‘And Vander?’

‘He's alive,’ you said, sliding your hand down his arm. ‘They took him.’

And your breath hitched as you realised.

He was alive. They had taken him, but he was still alive. Your mind was scrambling, trying to plan an impulse that came to you like a tug at your heart, watching the tears glisten on Vi's freckled cheeks. You couldn't let her lose someone else. Piltover had taken enough from her. Vander was still alive, you told yourself. He was still breathing, his chest was rising and falling, even if he hadn't had the strength to rise and confront them. He was alive, and you still had a chance to fight for him.

Your face took on a more worried tinge, ‘We need to find out where they've taken him.’

Vi looked up at you, her unfocused eyes darting across your face, but she nodded.

‘I know where,’ muttered a voice behind you. You turned abruptly, brow furrowed in distrust, and felt the pain wither against your ribcage. Ekko.

Little Ekko, never as small as he looked at that moment, his shoulders slumped forward and his crystallised gaze fixed on you. You took a step forward, ready to take him in your arms, but it was he who crossed the distance between you, taking refuge in your embrace. The pained expression on his face melted into tears as you snaked your hands around his back, and your own lump in your throat threatened to unravel as you felt him cry against your chest.

‘They killed him,’ he murmured, over and over against your skin, choking back his own tears.

‘I know, kid,’ you replied, unable to understand what you were supposed to do at that moment. You felt the warmth of unshed drops in your own eyes, and fought against them, burying your face in his hair as you felt one slide down your cheek. ‘I'm sorry, I'm sorry.’

‘We'll get them, Ekko,’ Vi promised, resting one hand on your back, stroking you comfortingly, and another on the boy's shoulder.

He parted slowly, rubbing his hand over his cheeks as Vi had done a few minutes before, and looked at the two of you, trying to gather the energy to speak. You couldn't stop to think what it must have felt like, watching Benzo die like that and still finding the strength to follow the perpetrators, the murderers, just so you could have a glimmer of hope of getting Vander back. He had been very brave.

‘It should be quick,’ you said, cradling his face in your hand, the pain shining in your gaze. ‘An hour and a half, maybe, tops two hours.’ You slid your gaze slightly to Vi, who was watching you with her brows furrowed in a helpless gesture, and added, ‘If we're not back then, please, go to my Mom's, yeah?’

Your mother would know what to do. She always did. She would take care of Ekko.

‘But...,’ he stammered, and you decided to ignore the way his chin began to tremble again, new tears gathering in his almond-shaped dark eyes.

‘No buts, Ekko,’ you replied, interrupting him gently. You took a breath of air, tangling your fingers in his short pale hair, pulling him to your body, and held him tightly in your arms. ‘I need you to be safe, please,’ you implored.

‘I don't want to lose you,’ he murmured against the fabric of your shirt, and you felt every movement of his lips, your own face struggling not to cry. 

You looked up, blinking back tears, sighing the lump in your throat, ‘You won't,’ you told him, stroking his white curls, ‘you have my word. I'll come back in one piece.’

You forced yourself to pull away from him, your hands on his shoulders, and slid your thumb over his cheeks to wipe away the strands of tears that had leaked from his eyes, trying to muster the courage to flash a crooked smile. It wasn't easy, but you couldn't afford to look weak. Not in front of him, not when he needed you more than ever.

‘Besides,’ you whispered, unbuttoning your waistcoat, holding the pocket watch between your fingers, resting it against his chest in a graceful motion, ‘who's going to look after my watch while I'm gone?’

‘Are you going to let me keep it?’ he asked, cupping it in his two hands as if it were a treasure. He slid his fingertips over the silver curve of its circumference, over the twelve chipped numbers you had drawn above it - all Roman numerals - and looked up at you.

‘Forever,’ you promised, nodding solemnly.

He pounced on you, wrapping his arms around your waist, and you melted into his embrace with closed eyes, memorising every detail. Vi joined in a sigh, wrapping her strong arms around you, and for a moment you remained buried under your own skin, wishing that it was all a nightmare and that when you opened your eyes, the rapid breathing, tears and screams were just part of yet another of your childish games.

Reality was far crueler than a kid's imagination.

You felt Vi's hand intertwined with yours like a shackle pulling you back to consciousness, the faint discomfort of your ankle keeping you sane as she led you to The Last Drop. You hadn't exchanged a word since you had left Ekko in the same room of broken glass you had fled from that morning, hidden in the rafters of the ceiling, and both of remained trapped in your minds, thoughts running at too much speed.

It was difficult to face such a situation. As inhabitants of Zaun, loss was part of your DNA. You came into the world crying for the loss of your future, a future that had been taken from you at the founding of the city, and you mourned the violence that you would inevitably encounter, ever-present in the streets of the underground. Vi had endured the death of her biological parents, as had Powder and the rest of the Vander children, and you had been born without knowing who your father was, growing up surrounded by brutality.

You didn't know what your girlfriend was thinking, but you tried to remember if you'd ever spent enough time in the docks to have been able to investigate the large building that loomed over the water, as if it were floating. Ekko had claimed to see the man of mist and Deckard disappear within its tall brick walls, but had refused to come any closer. You had left a soft kiss on his forehead as a farewell, and in a glance you and Vi had known what to do.

Vander had trained you for such a moment. He had spent years teaching you how to defend yourselves, practising boxing with you, training you to take care of your own. You had always assumed it would be complicated, any fight was. But as much as Vander had been a proponent of using violence, in his past, you had also learned peace. It was clear that Silco would not accept a dialogue, a bargain of any kind. He had negotiated with that Enforcer for Vander. Vander had been his target.

The importance of acting was to do it right. And if you sneaked in and out, as you'd done so many times before to get some food, you'd all sleep on the top floor of The Last Drop that night, listening to Vander's snoring, the sheets moving every time Powder rolled over in her bed, and Vi's body warm against yours.

The bar was dead silent when you slipped in through the back door, and you assumed Vander would have closed up before he went to find Vi. You waited a few moments for her as she went inside to fetch the gauntlets Vander always kept hanging over the counter, and slipped down the stairs to the small room in the basement of the building when she returned with a shake of her head. Someone had taken them.

‘Vi?’ uttered Claggor, turning to you as she opened the door. He added your name, avoiding the hint of a question. You tried to force a smile as you realised that they had always assumed that if one of you was there, the other would appear shortly after.

Vi came down the stairs two at a time, ignoring the two boys, and slid her eyes around the room, searching for the gauntlets, ‘Where are the...?’

You sat on one of the steps, listening to the soft thump of Powder's body as she pounced on her older sister, and pulled your trousers up to your knee, untying your laces at full speed. Whenever Vi was set on something, she acted on instinct and with great speed. You didn't know if she would look for something more —except perhaps other weapons— but you delegated finding them to her. You had little time to slow down the way your ankle was going to worsen its condition irremediably in the remainder of the night.

Nor did you have much more strength than she did to explain what had happened.

You pulled off the bandages you carried in your pocket, resting them on the old wood of the stairs, as you heard Vi's quickened breathing echo through the room, pulling your injured foot up a step to remove your boot. You looked up when you heard Mylo protest, ‘Hey, those are Vander's,’ he said, grabbing Vi by the wrist. ‘Slow down. What is going on?’

‘Benzo's dead,’ she muttered, and you closed your eyes for a moment, before continuing to untie the tight knot in your shoes. 

‘Dead?’ Claggor repeated, and you wondered if you were better off waiting outside. You removed your sock, shook your head, took a breath of air, and picked up the bandages, placing your foot on the knee of your other leg.

‘They took Vander.’

‘Who took Vander?’ added Claggor, as you began to wrap the bandage around your ankle, taut, inflexible on your skin, tense enough so that when you came back your joints wouldn't resent it. You did it angrily, trying to bury all the emotions you had managed to control so far.

‘I don't know,’ you heard Vi reply, and her voice sounded slightly closer as she turned to include you in the conversation, ’we're gonna help him.’

‘We're going with you,’ Mylo replied, almost as if he was hurt that it hadn't occurred to you earlier.

You put your sock back on when the bandages felt like a second skin over your foot, and tied your boots tightly. A bloody sprain wasn't going to stop you from rescuing Vander. It wasn't going to stop you from bringing him back, safely, home. You weren't going to let it. You looked up, sighing, and tried to intervene.

‘Whatever killed Benzo...’ you said, and your breath caught in your throat.

‘It was nothing like I've ever seen,’ Vi continued, and her voice trembled as much as yours. ‘It tore him apart.’

You saw the way her shoulders tensed before even the first sob slipped from her mouth, but you didn't have a chance to approach her before her brothers, who embraced her warmly, all united by stubbornness and impotence. Vi put her hands to her face, covering the obstinate tears she did not want to let fall down her cheeks, and you knew she had come to the same conclusion as you. They were both going to want to go with you, and you were going to need their help, no matter how much Vi wanted to keep them safe.

‘You're not doing this alone,’ Claggor stated, determined.

‘He's our father too,’ Mylo added, his hand tracing circles on Vi's back. ’Do we know where they took him?’

‘Ekko followed them,’ you interjected, clearing your throat as Vi stowed what her brothers had left on the table in one of the backpacks you always left lying around. ‘The old cannery next to the docks. He said...’

You looked up from the backpack, calming yourself once you realised it had been the boys who had taken the gauntlets, but the muscles in your back tensed again as you noticed Powder standing in front of you, a look of determination on her face, and a suitcase in her hands. Of course she wanted to go with you too.

Vi turned to you as she heard you hesitate, and exhaled an exhausted sigh at the sight of her sister.

‘I need you to sit this one out, Powder,’ she asked, approaching her.

‘What?’ her eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and your heart crumpled in your chest. Ekko had been easier to convince because he had seen what had happened. He was shocked, willing to wait for you to return. But Powder had always followed his sister's example, longing for a chance to show her worth and to stop being treated like a child.

‘You're not coming,’ and Powder's expression was worse than if she'd received a slap in the face.

‘I'm not afraid,’ she replied, desperate within the quietness of her response.

You couldn't intervene on this occasion. Nor were Mylo and Claggor going to. It went beyond their sense of responsibility, this was a blood sister fight to see which of the two would get their way. And the older one always had the upper hand.

‘It's too dangerous,’ Vi added, and you didn't have to see the gleam in her eye to know that she needed Powder to listen to her, to understand why she was asking so much of her.

‘But families stick together,’ Powder continued, accentuating his frown, ’you said it yourself.’

‘I know what I said...’

‘I want to fight,’ she announced, and the freckles creased on her cheeks as she looked up, raging, at Vi. ‘I can help.’

‘You're not ready,’ Vi replied, and her sharp tone cut over Powder's determination, shattering what hope remained. You saw how Vi held her breath for a moment, regretting her choice of words, and tried to correct them in a whisper. ‘You're all I have left,’ she said, resting the palm of her hand against Powder's cheek. ‘I can't lose you.’

‘Here,’ you uttered, in a soft, conciliatory tone, approaching them with one of the flares you had in a box under the stairs. It was a blue smoke one, a symbol you had talked about more than once with Powder, making jokes about the colour of her hair.

Vi took it gently from your hands, handing it to her little sister, ‘If they come for you, take this and run,’ she whispered, her gaze locked on Powder's pale pink eyes. ‘Wherever you are, light it up and I'll find you.’

Eyes shining, you almost couldn't hear the last words, a gentle ‘I promise’ murmured against Powder's face as she leaned down to rest her forehead against her sister's, memorising the warmth of her body before parting. You turned, beckoning Mylo and Claggor up the stairs, and you followed, leaving the sisters a few more seconds together.

The mood seemed somewhat subdued, Mylo's mouth closed in an altogether uncharacteristic muteness, and you peeled back your lips to make some comment to cheer them. The words died in your throat when you reached the landing, suddenly surrounded by Claggor's arms, and you held your breath in surprise.

‘I'm sorry,’ he said, and Mylo repeated it, both of them hugging you.

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself a moment of weakness, and let out a choked sob against Claggor's shoulder, still feeling the lump in your throat.

‘It's not your fault,’ you murmured back, ’it's not.’

‘It's not yours either,’ Vi uttered, and you turned your face towards her, who had just appeared through the door.

You tried to curl your lips into a grateful smile, your eyelids quivering to keep from shedding a tear, ‘I know.’

But it wasn't true, because you could never find out what would have happened if you had come down from that rooftop before Silco appeared, if you had warned the Enforcers of Deckard's presence. It was already in the past, you had lost your opportunity. Maybe, if you had confronted them while Vander and Benzo were still conscious, everything would be fine. Maybe your presence would had led them to fight back. And that was something Vi didn't know either.

You trailed behind, but kept pace as Vi led you through the crooked streets of Zaun, turning corners and ignoring drunken men, towards the city borders. The docks were not a highly desirable place, though one to which Madam sent many prostitutes on the days of disembarkation. Most traders transacted goods with the topside, and its bright and shiny harbours, but those who dealt in coal and alcohol had to make a stop at the Lanes, and the black market in its streets.

That building, however, looked even darker in the moonlight, the mist rising from the water creating a cloak of eerie mystery around it. You walked around its perimeter in a couple of minutes, trying to figure out which entrance was the most secluded but best accessible, and it was your keen eye that located an open window on the first floor. You climbed onto Claggor's shoulders, a rope at your shoulder, and clung tightly to one of the pipes, checking with a smirk that it would be able to support your weight.

Of the four of you, you were the best at climbing. You were elusive, small and slender for your age, even more so than the children of Zaun, no doubt a consequence of the fact that on many days your mother had been unable to offer you food to put in your mouth. The need to hide had made you learn to duck between the rooftops of the city, and though Vi was better at leaping from building to building, you were certainly the sneakiest of the bunch.

You even seemed to glide along the facades, you'd been told, clawing at bricks and picking out which spots on the wall were best to rest your limbs on, as you were doing at the moment. You panted as you managed to get your arm over the window sill, sliding your leg over so that you could slide into the building, and held your breath as you glanced down the dark corridor. No one seemed to be there. You grabbed the coiled rope you had slung over your shoulder and began to drag it down the window, waiting for Vi's two tugs before you crouched on the floor and braced your feet against the wall.

You held on, with the rope wrapped around your waist and tugging at it while the others climbed, and left it hidden under the window once everyone had climbed up. In case any guards found it, they wouldn't know where to start looking, and you doubted you would need it to escape. Vander was too heavy and too weakened to get out the way you had come in.

You scanned the corridors of the warehouse, rusty platforms stacked in a narrow space, and hurried to take up position behind Claggor, the four of you forming a line with Vi in front and Mylo last, slouching forward under the riveted iron pipe railings. Vi signalled to you when she realised that there was a poorly lit room on the upper floor, and you all hurried up the stairs, still crouching. 

When you reached the other side of the corridor, Vi leaned forward, peering quickly, and turned to you with a triumphant smile, voicelessly pronouncing that Vander was there. You rested a hand on Claggor's shoulder as you felt Mylo's on your waist, and you advanced at a rapid pace until you reached the room, where Vander sat, defeated, in a big iron chair, all his limbs imprisoned by metal straps, fastened by padlocks.

You saw him spit blood, his broad chest straining to breathe out a hoarse cough, and he whispered a soft ‘Vi,’ his unfocused eyes closing as he felt his eldest daughter's arms slipping around his shoulders in a hug. His tone became more urgent as he realised you were really there, ‘What are you doing here?’

‘We're breaking you out,’ Vi explained, as you picked up the backpack she had left on the ground.

You opened it, kneeling on the ground, and pulled out the lock-picking device you had built for Mylo. It didn't always work, but it was the best you had. ‘Mylo,’ you called, and tossed the gadget to him.

‘On it!’

You turned towards the door, rising to your feet to check that no one was coming in, your fingers tingling to check the time on a watch you no longer had, but you froze when you heard Vander's husky voice.

‘How... how did you get in?’ he said, stuttering hurriedly over the words that were building up in his mouth. ‘There's guards everywhere.’

Oh God. Of course it had been a trap. 

‘It was easy,’ you heard Vi reply, her tone losing its strength as the realisation dawned on her. ‘We found an open window and...’

You rushed over to the backpack, hastily pulling out the weapons that Claggor and Mylo had gathered, as you saw Claggor's figure hurrying to grab his favourite dagger, trying to release one of Vander's wrists from its prison. The man made eye contact with you, Vi stepping behind you to watch the door, and you held back a sob as you heard Vander again, ‘You have to get out. Now.’

No. You weren't going to leave him again. You weren't going to fail at the same task twice. There had to be time, you could do it. Silco's men probably hadn't even realised you were in yet, you had a chance, you could....

But you heard a clap reverberate through the warehouse, soft and dangerous, and your breath caught in your throat.

Silco.

‘Welcome,’ he murmured, his voice flowing like a river down its course, the sound of his rhythmic clapping coming hopelessly closer to you, ‘you have my congratulations,’ you tried to ignore it, to keep the memory of his tone from bringing back the vision of Benzo's body falling to the ground, but it came to you with the force of a storm, leaving you breathless, ‘but i'm afraid this will be a very short reunion.’

You refused to turn toward him, your hands instinctively gripping Vander's gauntlets, and Vi positioned herself at your side, shooting a defiant glare at the man of mist as she held out her arms for you to place Vander's weapons on her.

‘Have you heard the rumours?’ he added, and you could hear the amusement in his voice, ‘Vander the coward fled town with his children. And they were never seen again.’

You finished knotting the second gauntlet to your girlfriend's wrist, the straps stiff but comfortable on her pale skin, and exchanged a glance with her. You were going to make it. You rested your hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly, and she gave you a fragile but sincere smile, real, just for you. Vi was the best at boxing. You took a quick glance back, your gaze hardening as you saw that Silco was surrounded by his followers, a bunch of buff men and women, all of them ready to fight. You sighed, determined. If there was anyone who could take on a man two heads taller, and visibly stronger, it was her.

You moved your hand up to the nape of her neck, stroking the lower part of her hair, and closed your eyes as you rested your forehead on his. It was a good-luck caress, a wish to go home, a temporary goodbye. She took a breath of air, parting from you reluctantly, as she always did, and positioned herself at your back. You saw the way Claggor's dagger broke from too much pressure, and heard Vi's first step toward the door.

‘Claggor, see if you can find another way out of here,’ you ordered him, rotating your shoulders. You saw him nod, watching out of the corner of your eye as Mylo wrestled with the device in the lock on Vander's right leg. Claggor nodded. Vander looked at you, concerned.

‘You don't have to do this,’ he said, but you knew he was talking to Vi.

‘Yes I do,’ she replied, determined, resolved.

Your priority was to get Vander out of there, to get everyone home safely. You ignored Vander's strangled gasp as Vi's quickened footsteps echoed over the metal lattice floor of the corridor, and you brought your hands to your head, grabbing the two long metal bobby pins you wore in your hair, both sharp and U-shaped. You crouched down next to Vander's other leg, and picked up the padlock. Inventions were your thing, you had to figure out how to open it.

You looked over your shoulder when you heard a thud behind you, momentarily startled, but smiled as you saw Vi, exultant in the middle of the bridge, and in the floor the body of the giant tattooed man you had seen when you turned around. That was your girl. You inserted one of the hairpins into the lock hole, noticing how Vander relaxed minimally against the seat as he saw that his daughter was perfectly capable, and then turned the other, recreating the teeth of a key. You imagined the mechanism under the padlock's metal cover, turning its gears to loosen.

Everything was going to be all right.

‘Mylo,’ you heard Vander, and saw out of the corner of your eye that Mylo had slipped the device to the floor. ‘You can do this.’

You looked over at Claggor, your fingers struggling against the lock, and saw that he had found a crack in the wall. There were enough tools in the backpack for him to open a hole. Perfect. You took a breath of air, forcing your wrist to turn the downward facing bobby pin all the way around, and the locking bow opened with a soft snap. You removed the hairpins, withdrawing the lock, and Vander rested his leg on the ground.

‘We're gonna get you out,’ you murmured, crouching down next to Mylo. ‘Hey, Myls,’ you said, laying your hands on top of his, helping him move them nimbly, ‘big breath.’

You felt him inhaling briefly, closing his eyes to feel the gears of the device against his palm, and you exchanged a glance as the smooth sound was repeated, releasing Vander's other leg.

‘We got this,’ he whispered, more encouraged.

‘Of course we do,’ you replied, placing a hand on Vander's knee to pull yourself to your feet.

Vi's soft panting continued to echo off the walls of the warehouse, to the rhythm of the punches of her gauntlet-covered fists as they impacted against the bodies of Silco's minions, and you looked back once more. Vi was rising against a bare-chested man, her shoulders tense, turned so that she could deliver another blow.

You focused on the lock on Vander's wrist as Mylo did the same on the other side of the chair, holding your hairpins tightly, moving your hands as fast as you could. You listened to your heart pounding in your ears, for a moment drowning out all sound from outside, like every time you secluded yourself in your studio, until you heard the first howl.

It reverberated in your mind, emptying it of all thought, like a shadow stretching over you. Deckard. You turned, eyes widening in horror, the mass of flesh that was the boy who had once abused you looming over Vi, and for a moment your heart stopped in your chest. In the darkness, you were only able to make out the fluorescent violet color of his veins, Vi's light pink hair, facing each other. You had seen what Deckard was capable of. You weren't going to let Vi end up like Benzo and those Enforcers.

‘Mylo, hurry,’ Vander pleaded, as you twisted the hairpins urgently, releasing the lock as soon as it gave way.

You turned toward the backpack, watching in horror as Vi leapt toward Deckard, and grabbed the first thing you saw. A piece of pipe, thin and hard against your hand, long enough that you could strike without getting too close. It wasn't a sword, but it would have to do. You looked up, checking that Claggor had already begun removing bricks from the wall, and advanced toward the deck, ignoring the way Deckard had grabbed Vi by the neck.

‘Silco, let her go!’ shouted Vander, slamming his free hand on the armrest of his chair. ‘This is between you and me!’

‘You had your chance,’ Silco replied, not even flinching.

Vi coughed, a choked, desperate sound, followed by a scraped gasp in her throat, seeking oxygen, and you slid onto the metal walkway. Deckard was barely aware that you had moved behind him, too focused on snatching every last breath of air from your girlfriend's lungs, and he dropped her against the ground as you jumped, unloading the pipe against his skull with all the force you had.

Deckard grumbled, an anguished scream spilling from his mouth, and you let go of the pipe, running to Vi. You slung one of her arms over your shoulders, one of yours around her waist, and carried her back to the room where Vander was, panting, the pain in your ankle beginning to awaken. You gritted your teeth, leaving Vi on the floor, leaning against the wall, and charged over to the sliding iron door, doing your best to close it. When you felt the door slam as it hit the wall, blocking Deckard's access, you pushed past the latch, collapsing against the floor, your shoulder pressed up to the door, just in case.

“You did good,” Vander whispered, looking at you, at Vi, his gaze clouded with admiration.

You merely nodded, exhausted, as Claggor continued to throw bricks, opening a large hole in the wall. You felt light, despite your tiredness, and leaned your head against the door. Mylo was struggling with the last lock, but you knew he was going to make it. You allowed yourself to close your eyes for a heartbeat, sighing, a moment of quiet before the first bang came. It echoed through the room, metallic and dry, and you felt it coursing through your body. Deckard was trying to reach you all.

You watched as Vi sat up, the one fist that still retained a gauntlet resting on the ground to stand, and tried to crawl to sit beside you, her chest rising and falling at full speed. There was only waiting, you knew. A slow, agonizing wait, until the boys were done with their part of the mission. You felt Vi lean her head on your shoulder, your bodies moving in time to Deckard's pounding, straining against the door to try and hold on as long as it took, and you clenched your jaw.

You were going to make it. A knock, a furtive glance at Mylo, and you heard the soft sound of the lock being released. You were going to make it. One punch, your shoulders tensed, and Vander was finally free. You. Were. Going. To. Make. It. One punch. A gentle squeeze on Vi's free hand. And Claggor finished tore a hole in the wall. You stood up, advancing forward, and then, just silence.

Suddenly, an explosion. You stopped, alert, your eyes wide, and turned to Vi. She had the same terrified expression on her face, one hand resting on the door to pull herself to her feet. You listened carefully over your ragged breathing, your ankle throbbing, your throat dry. Another explosion, closer this time. You turned to Vander, frowning, looking at him as if he could have some kind of answer. He extended his hand toward you, gesturing for Vi to hurry towards them.

A third explosion, and the world around you ceased to exist.

The crackling of the fire, soft and malleable in your ears, was what greeted you when you woke up. Your mouth felt dry, ragged, as if you had swallowed dust, but you opened it anyway, taking in a big breath of air. The oxygen burned your tongue, your eyes still closed, and you tried to move your hands, but you were unable to. You were caught.

The weight of certainty hovered over your ribcage, imprisoning it against the ground, and you moved your head on the cement beneath you, the ground warm against your forehead. You breathed in a second time, your respiration becoming more erratic, and then it hit you. Ashes. There were ashes everywhere, flames eating up the space in the room as if to make you disappear.

You opened your eyes, hearing a faint cough somewhere, and tried to focus your gaze on some point, but you saw only shadows and fire, dancing over you, coming closer, taunting you, and then going away again. You turned your head, looking for some familiar figure, Vander's comforting gaze in the darkness, Vi's soothing touch on your skin, but you were alone. You clenched your jaw, trying to fight against the stone that held you prisoner on the ground, but you found it impossible.

And then, a cry. In a déjà vu, you stirred again under your stone prison, turning toward the desperate sound of Vi's voice. You couldn't see her, but you knew she was there. Your chest was beginning to ache under the weight of the stone, each time managing to breathe less and less air, but you gritted your teeth, struggling, and managed to get a hand out. You mumbled your girlfriend's name, calling her name amidst the chaos, and sobbed when you got no response.

It seemed like the end. You felt dirty, drenched in sweat, stiff under the night of Zaun, and you were unable to perceive your legs, dumb under the stone. They were bricks, probably. Or the roof, perhaps. Snippets of the explosion came back to your memory, the dull sound against your ears, the brutality of the shockwave, and you looked straight ahead again. Vi was there, somewhere, and you had to get to her.

You fought against the cement block above you, trying to move it with your hips, with your arms, doing everything you could to get out of there, until you heard your name. In a wail, low and desperate, to your right. You turned, ignoring the laceration from the edge of the stone on your torso, and saw her. Her clear, frightened gaze, calling for you, the desperate gesture of her body. She was trapped under the metal door.

A growl, a large, dark silhouette in the smoke, and pounding. But you ignored them. You tried to turn a little more, struggling to reach Vi, your fingernails clawing at the ground and the ashes under your hand, dragging you towards her. Then the floor began to shake under your fingers, the ringing in your ears intensifying. The door imprisoning Vi flew off, and she crawled over to you, her hand outstretched in search of yours.

You stretched out your arm to reach for her, flinching as you heard a pained shout from Vander, extending your fingers, reaching out as far as you could for her, but before you could finally touch her fingers, a monstrous figure loomed over both of you, snarling, and grabbed Vi's body, leaping out of the building.

Your hand fell to the ground, defeated, and the walls that were left standing shook with the force of another explosion. You closed your eyes, stubborn, and shook yourself. You had to get to Vi. You had to find her, and Vander, and together you would search for Mylo and Claggor. You would return home. Nothing would have been in vain.

The flames crackled louder around you, almost warning you that getting up was a bad idea, but you ignored them. You weren't going to listen to them. You rested one hand on the ground, the other pulling the stone above you. You weren't strong enough to be able to lift it, but maybe you could wriggle out from under it. You were good at crawling, you could do it. You heard a cry of pain, distant but sharp against your chest, wholly yours. Your shoulder began to burn.

The first drop landed on your cheek. For a moment you thought it was blood, thick and dark against your skin, but then another fell on your chest, light and cool, and a next, and a next. Rain. It was raining. Water, cold and clear, that made the fire sizzle around you. You breathed a sigh of relief as you rested your shoulder on the ground, the dust and rain soothing the burns that threatened to sear your flesh, and leaned forward again. One arm in front of the other, ignoring the pain, pulling yourself back up as you fell to the ground, slowly and achingly moving forward.

Your legs wobbled as you tried to stand up. The bandages on your ankle were soaked in blood, which slid down from your thigh, staining everything in its path. Your torso was bruised, throbbing against your hand, and your ears were ringing. You leaned against the stone that had been above you, towering over it, and blinked, sliding your gaze around the room.

And then you saw them, Mylo and Claggor. Buried under the pieces of ceiling that had collapsed on top of you, motionless, drained of blood. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a step toward them, a sob piercing your throat. There was nothing to be done, you knew. Still you knelt beside them, stroking Claggor's face, running your mangled fingers through Mylo's hair. You couldn't leave them. They were your family, you had to take care of them.

Powder's desperate scream echoed across the starry sky of Zaun, and your heart pulled forward in your ribs, your head turning toward the giant gap in the wall. Powder. She was supposed to be safe, in The Last Drop. She wasn't supposed to see any of this. She was supposed to wait for you to come back, in a couple of hours, and hold each other, perhaps commenting on it all as a successful anecdote. Mourning Benzo, honoring his memory.

Powder wasn't supposed to be there.

You rose to your feet once more, brow furrowed in concentration, gritting your teeth as you braced your injured leg on the floor, crawling, leaning against the walls to get out of there. You walked the metal corridors of the deserted building, of the cemetery of concrete and fire, descending the stairs one at a time, holding back the screams of pain that threatened to spill out of your mouth. You had to get to her, protect her, look for Vi, find Vander. Together you'd be okay. You always had been. You could make it through, with Ekko, with your mother's help. You would make it. You could fix it.

The night air greeted you like a slap in the face, the empty street echoing your footsteps. No one was there. You had heard Powder, you were sure. But she wasn't there. In a haze of light and shadow, you saw a body on the ground. Everything was gone, but there was another corpse right in front of you. You approached slowly, limping, gasping for breath, until you were able to recognize his face.

It was not Deckard, as you had wished. It was Vander's bruised and deformed face, turned into a monstrous beast, the violet blood spilled under his body. You put a hand to your mouth, falling to your knees beside him, collapsing. And the lump in your throat finally burst, a scream leaving your mouth, resting your forehead on his chest. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

You looked up, the loneliness caressing an uneasy shiver across your skin, and stared before you, seeing nothing.

Sometimes your last breath doesn't belong to you. It is stolen, ripped away by others with firm and merciless hands. One second, one heartbeat, one desperate look. One second, one heartbeat, and life leaves your eyes. Other times you hold your breath, the emptiness opening in your chest, deepening as you try to contain it. You tell yourself it's the end, that you need it to be. But it isn't. You end up breathing. You let the oxygen invade you again, even though it feels like a weight on your chest. You keep breathing, even though you wish you weren't.

⠀⠀𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍.⠀( send an ask or comment under the series to be part of it , just if you're going to interact with it ━reblogging with feedback. )⠀@im-just-a-simp-le-whore , @celestialzdiviner , @corpsebridenightamare , @louissst28 , @astr1dblogs , @notsolarry , @starlostastronaut , @yoonkinii , @padsfirewhisky , @luvrluvrr , @ssqra , @darkmoonchic , @urlocalsabito , @spicetouched , @astrxwitch , @deadlynightshadebylana , @bachirastoe , @pickmmeup , @your-scarlett-world

ㅤㅤ© dilemmars ★ do not copy, translate, repost or share this work as yours on other platforms ! consider leaving a comment or reblogging.

[curtins]

I LOVE YOU, I'M SORRY — gojo satoru

prologue. → gojo was always charming, maddening and impossibly brilliant. a gift and a curse to the world. the love of your life, the loss of your life, the one that got away. you can only sit alone with his cold, lifeless form and wonder where it all went wrong. how do you mourn a star that burned itself out for the sake of the sky?

pairing. gojo satoru x on/off ex!reader

warnings+. heavy angst, flashbacks of a whirlwind and not so healthy relationship, description of death and injuries and what comes after the heart stops beating, suggestive content but nothing explicit. u could interpret this as unreliable narrator who didn't quite see gojo properly, or that gojo just wasn't a good partner to keep things interesting?

word count. 1.9k song inspiration. i love you, i'm sorry — gracie abrams

a/n. this was actually meant to be sweet but suddenly reader became an ex. and well...it snowballed 😁 peep the ttpd reference in the prologue

mp3. a habit to kick, the age-old curse. i tend to laugh whenever i'm sad, i stare at the crash, it actually works. making amends, this shit never ends. i'm wrong again.

there was no funeral for gojo.

and right now, the room smells of heavy antiseptics and medicated disinfectant. sterile white walls seem to echo every tick, tick of the clock, every scrape of shoko's surgical tools against the metal tray. but there is little that cuts deeper than the silence.

gojo's body lies in four neat pieces on the long table, stitched in places that cannot possibly hold him together, laid out like a broken constellation. shoko has allowed you to stay here, perhaps some form of pity?

you just sit in the corner of the lab, knees pulled to your chest and trembling with the effort it takes to keep breathing.

gojo satoru was always meant to burn out, wasn't he? he had been a lit match, vibrant and untouchable, like a streak of blue wildfire that seared much too hot, too fast.

satoru had been bruised fingertips on your rocking hips, he had been clashing teeth and tugged cherry-bitten lips, sweet caramel dissolving on your tongue.

he had been screaming matches in the rain, slams of an apartment door, a vicious and cruel tongue when provoked.

what he wasn't meant to be was a multitude of patchwork pieces, coated in patches of day-old rusty blood and shards of bone.

you just didn't think that someone like him belonged in this fragile, porcelain world. gojo had laughed too loud for it, fought too hard, loved too recklessly. its bitter to think of now — a cosmic power in a body of flesh and blood.

how could someone like him have ever lived to see his twilight years?

but you still always thought that he would. you thought of his arrogance, the small curl of his lips as he crowed on with a shadow in his jewel-tone eyes, "don't worry, i'm the strongest, remember?"

and so, you thought you had time. time to heal wounds that you had both inflicted on each other. time to try again.

but now there was no time. no gojo. just you, left to pick up the pieces of sukuna's little mercy.

shoko works quietly, and her hands are steady, a mask pulled over her face as tools gleam under the harsh light. she's running stitches through flesh that was once warm under your skin. you watch as she runs rolls of small bandages over his bisected waist, bandages imbued with special spells for gojo's posthumous...plan.

"i can't promise anything, you know. even if i put him back together, it will never be him. just okkotsu." the shadows around shoko's pretty eyes are ever deeper, violet and blue bruising the tired ache that paints her face.

what an awful and cruel plan. the ache in your heart is too great to even consider the trial that the young yuta is yet to face, to have to step into another's body. what a perversion of the world. but your mind lingers on the harsh reality that gojo must have known that there was no other ending to this story.

and you wonder briefly about whether he had finally reached the peace that he had sought. whether that those last moments, lying in the snow like a butchered and wounded animal had been painless. had the world gone quiet in his ears as snow fell around him? had he been glad of the end?

you don't respond to shoko. what could you say? there's nothing to fix. gojo is gone, and no amount of polypropylene sutures or reverse cursed technique could sew him back into the man who had leaned against the doorframe of your room last week, grinning with his haori thrown around his shoulders.

"you just take things too seriously," he had teased, mirth tickling his voice, poking around for a provocation, "i didn't even mean it like that. let's go get something to eat downstairs." "fuck you, satoru!" you had been furious with him at the time, he had drawn your ire with some pointless tussle and barbed comment. you had been launching a comb at him which only just deflected away from his infinity, when he had laughed. "all right, let me know when you feel better, pretty," and he had tugged his haori back over his broad frame, "we can do other things too, if you like. y'know, if you're still feeling hot-headed." "get out, you dog!" "love you too." and the great gojo satoru, a fuckin' grown man, has just giggled. and winked audaciously, as he practically sauntered away.

now his ridiculous smile is a ghost, and you wonder if you’ll ever stop seeing it when you close your eyes.

you've risen from your chair slowly, every joint stiff as if the grief has taken root in your bones, curling poison ivy around your limbs that make you want to tear your nails into your own skin.

the surgical table feels close, too far, too unbearable. but you reach out still, as your fingers tremble, and you let them hover over whatever is left of him. it's his right arm, only loosely held together by rough stitches.

touching him now is like plunging your hand into a winter river. it's cold, unyielding and so profoundly wrong. the skin beneath your fingers has lost all the elasticity of life, no longer soft of warm, but stiff in an alien way. there's a bitter clinging in the back of your throat when you wonder how shoko does this everyday. it's like touching the husk of something that was once sacred to you, and you trace the faint lines of veins, now a ghostly blue beneath waxen skin. the arm is heavy, dead weight against the table.

and there's the smell, faint but inescapable. the metallic tang of blood, now dried to a dark, rusted maroon. it lingers in the air, and you close your eyes to stop yourself from losing the contents of your stomach.

It’s like touching the husk of something once sacred, a relic robbed of its divine warmth.

your hand trembles as you pull away, the cold clinging to your palm like a memory you can’t shake. you want to scrub it off, to erase the feeling, but it’s already etched into your skin, into your mind. the absence of warmth feels like a punishment, a reminder of what you’ve lost and what you can never have back.

"i should've —" the words choke in your throat, sharp and jagged. you swallow them, but they’re stuck, just like the tears that refuse to fall. "i should've done more."

shoko glances up, her gaze as piercing as the scalpels she wields. "you did everything you could. so did satoru."

your eyes blur as they fix on his lifeless form, but now you're no longer seeing cold flesh on the table. no, you're somewhere else, far softer and far sweeter. somewhere before the world had turned to ash in your hands.

you're seventeen again, standing outside your favourite bakery after school, laughing so hard your ribs hurt. because gojo had just tried to bribe the shop owner for an extra box of mochi with a lopsided grin and misguided charm. the elderly woman behind the till had told him to get lost, before muttering something about the youths of the day were rude geezers.

gojo had always been like that, over the top and dramatic, dragging you into his whirlwind without asking, but you hadn't minded. not then.

every day he had brought home something, a sugar-dusted pastry, a delicate cake, a flimsy excuse to see you smile as he'd thrust the treat into your hands like he had conquered the world, and didn't he say that there was nothing in the world as sweet as your kisses?

you drank him in like honey, not realising how it would one day sour on your tongue.

and you still remember the day that gojo came home, buzzing with energy, his usual swagger somehow dialed up to an eleven. he could barely sit still as you watched him pace your shared apartment, his words tumbling out in excited burst. you had laughed and asked what on earth was going on with your sweet boyfriend, but had only grinned before reaching into his pocket and kneeling on the worn, wooden floor.

the ring had been small and simple, a thin silver band with a single shining gem — but knowing the spending habits of the head of the gojo clan, it must have been illustrious in its price. wide-eyed and earnest, for once, he had been stripped of all his bravado.

"i'm going to marry you," he had said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. as if you weren't already his, body and soul. heart and hands.

god, you had wanted this more than anything. you had said yes, a squealing and gushing yes! gojo had slipped the ring on your finger with hands that shook just a little, and the two of you had...rechristened almost every surface in the apartment that night.

but then, it was over. slowly at first, like the creeping edge of frost, until one day it felt like you were standing in the middle of a blizzard.

the kisses turned sharp, fleeting, like a blade grazing your skin. loving hands became cold and distant on one another, pulling away as if the other’s touch burned. you started slamming doors in anger, avoiding him in the quiet spaces of your home. and when you couldn’t avoid him, your words became weapons, dripping with venom and spite. he gave as good as he got — every snarky comment from your lips was met with one from his. pride clashed with pride, and neither of you would bend, not even for love.

the breaking point came after that mission. the one where everything had gone wrong. a cursed spirit of impossible strength. you’d taken a blow meant for him — too fast, too reckless — and nearly didn’t come back from it. you remember the blood, the way it soaked into the earth beneath you as gojo shouted your name over and over again, a sound you thought might split the sky.

you’d lived, somehow, but the cracks in your foundation were too wide to ignore. that night, you’d stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at the ring on your finger, and finally let yourself bawl. when you’d slipped it off, it felt like your heart had gone with it.

what gojo didn’t know — what he never found out, would never find out now — was that you hadn’t discarded it. you couldn’t. even in the worst of it, when the fights left you shattered and raw, you couldn’t let it go. the tiny band of silver stayed tucked in your pocket, a quiet weight against your heart, a reminder of what could’ve been.

now, as you sit here, staring at what’s left of him, that weight feels unbearable. you reach into your pocket, your fingers brushing against the cool metal, and pull it out. the gem glints faintly in the fluorescent light, as if mocking you.

i still loved you, you think, the words echoing hollowly in your chest. i’m sorry.

but it’s too late now. too late for apologies, too late for second chances, too late for anything but this — grief that swallows you whole, a storm with no end in sight.

the ring slips from your trembling hand, clinking softly as it falls to the floor.

[yuyu1024]

Prisoner

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞 smut, mention of food/eating, cursing, sensual touching, unprotected sex, making out, needy/clingy, Pet name, lies, kinks, Smoking [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 3.0k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note: repost. Likes and reblogs are much appreciated 🫶🏻

Check pinned post for more

***

The sound of the wedding bells and the people cheering for your union are still ringing in your ears. You could also still envision your friends and families' warmest smiles and tearful hugs as they congratulate you. Everyone is so happy. They kept on saying that your wedding is the most magical and happiest they've ever seen.

Yes. Your wedding is the grand. The whole castle like church is filled with the whitest flowers that gives an illusion of the place is floating in clouds. You could also see shiniest silvers and krystals all over the place. It felt unreal.

You requested for a simple wedding but you are given more than that and you love it.

The wedding is also filled with people you both love and cherish. So you feel comfortable and loved all through out the ceremony and the party afterwards.

Yes. The wedding is amazing.

Yes. The wedding is to die for.

Yes. The wedding is like a fantasy.

It's because it is... it is a fantasy and no where near reality.

It is only for show to make people believe that you and the man you married is real.

Little did everyone know, your marriage is just arranged. You were just handpicked by the groom because he had no other option. He didn't like the women his parents are suggesting. So he decided to himself to pick someone from the ground and carry to his world. A world filled with darkness and resentment. A very, very, very cold world.

"Miss..." a voice echoes waking you up from your daydream

You slowly open your eyes to see the barely lit room that you are still in. You get up from leaning onto the edge of the bathtub and see your personal maid near the door. Her head lowered not making eye contact with you. She's holding your towel and bathrobe.

"I'm sorry, Miss. But Master asked for dinner to be served soon...he's on his way home."

You look down at your hands peeking from the warm milky water and then pick up the rose petals floating on it. "He's early today..." you mumble quietly

"I heard that the meeting with his father, Mr. Min finished early..."

"I wonder why..." you got up from the bath. She immidiately rush towards you, handing you the towel and bathrobe to use.

"Mr. Min told Master to go home early... because of you Miss..."

"Ah... really..." there is no hint of excitement in your voice. "You can leave now and help them prepare... I'll get ready myself..." you tell the maid, who is still not having any eye contact with you.

You don't sound happy nor sad. Actually, you do sound like a robot with no feelings when you talk.

You were not like this before. Yes you are a quiet person, an introvert and reserved but never like this. You changed quite a lot after getting married. It's not by choice. You just have to adapt with your surroundings.

Living in a big ass mansion with more than fifty staffs and bodyguards but no one to talk to. You have no one to spend your time but yourself. Your world became, quiet.

Yes you do have a husband. You married him. But the man is never home most of the time. And when he is, he does not even make conversations with you unless it's related to his parents; asking you to do this and that. To be present here and there. Telling you what to say and not to talk about. Basically, he only talks to you when its about your deal. Yes, deal.

Funny isn't? You married bound by a contract but that's it. Just by contract. No love is involved.

You know this since the beginning. You signed the marriage certificate plus the contract. You are aware. But you never thought that this will be the kind of life you will have. Alone. But what choice do you have? He offered your parents a huge amount of money for your hands. A money that could let them live a good life even when they retire early. That's how big it is.

And you agreed to it, not because of the money, but because you thought; that maybe, just maybe this is the universe's doing. Him and you meeting under this circumstances but then in the end, getting to know each other and that Maybe...... maybe learn to love each other. But you're wrong. You and Yoongi have been married for more than a year now and its already had taken a toll on you emotionally and physically.

"Miss... Master is just a few minutes away..."

You pause brushing your hair, staring at yourself through the full body mirror. You are wearing the plain black, fitted halter dress that you received as a gift from him. You like this dress because it emphasizes your figure and shows off a little skin because of the slit. He gifted you this dress during your honeymoon. It's probably the cheapest clothing you have in your closet but for you this is the most valuable.

"Do you want me to fix your hair, Miss?"

You put down your hair brush. "No thank you."

Then you sit down and start to put on your shoes. But instead of heels, you put your white canvas shoes.

"Ahm, no heels today, Miss?" She sounds a bit concern

"No." You stand up to look at yourself one last time before going. "My feet hurts so I'll wear something comfy for now..."

"I understand." She hurriedly puts down the heels she had on hand and runs after me.

It is true that your feet is hurting. You've been wearing heels everyday when you go to work. 'Work' meaning is socializing with your husband's family friends and circle. You represent him for charities and parties he can't and won't attend. It's not everyday but these past few weeks, you've been busy. You were away too most of the days of the week. That's why you also barely saw your husband. He's been away for a week and when he came back you got busy too. And tonight, this is the first time you'll be eating dinner with him.

"Tell him to reschedule... I won't be available tomorrow. I have other plans."

You hear him talking to the phone when you enter the dinning room. He's so focused that he didn't even bat an eye when you sit down across him.

"What do you prefer, Miss?" The male servant asks. "We have tender lamb chops braised in wine. Served with pea puree and then wild sea bass with sautéed smoked bacon, red chicory, runner beans and red wine sauce."

"The latter, please..." You try to give a smile to show appreciation but then you halt as you hear your husband slam his phone on the table. It starlted you a bit.

And also, up to now he still hasn't dared to look at you. He just went on to eating his lamb after his phone call.

You want to watch him eat or even glance at him every now and then, just so you could update his image from your memory. You just want to see him, Even just a tiny bit silhouette of his face behind the boquet of flowers between the two of you.

'Fuck.' You curse in your mind.

You always ask yourself why do you even bother wanting to see him or make conversation with him when you know you don't mean anything to him. For him, you are just one of his staff. The only difference is that he talks to about life when he wants to because its part of your business with him. And to add to that, you're only his 'woman' when he needs to release stress. Meaning you two have sex when he needs it. There is no date or time. When he calls you or he comes to your room unannounced, that's it. Saying no is not an option.

But come to think of it, the last time you two had sex was quite a long time ago. It's been months.

'Does this mean... even in sex... he's not satisfied with me? Did he looked for a different woman to do it with?' You talk to yourself

"Leave us." He orders to the servants.

You didn't dare to glance up. You just kept yourself occupied by poking the fish on your plate.

"Your hair got longer..." he says making you pause

Your eyes goes up and see him looking straight at you."Ah... yes..." You answer before looking back down.

"Why ask for the fish if you're not going to eat it?"

You raise your head up again, "hmm?"

He tosses his one up like it's water. "Someone reported to me that you've been eating less lately."

"My appetite is fine... I'm just...off a bit..."

You put down your fork and try to think before you speak again. You can tell him you're tired because how can you be? You have all the assistant you need and more. Plus you are living a lavish life. You could ask for a massage, a facial or swim in the pool whenever you want. You have everything. Except him.

That. You can't mention. You can't dare ask for his attention. He'll get mad. You know he will. He said it in the very beginning of this relationship. That 'You are just his wife in papers. And never expect something more from him.'

"I'll be fine..."

You look straight back at him. You can finally see him clearly. He slightly moved to the side, giving you an amazing view of his face. He's still look as beautiful as you remember. His long hair, sharp eyes, pinkish lips and the scar.

"How's the auction?" He pulls out a cigarette from the pack he have on the table and lights it off. "You bought a vintage jewelry?"

"I did."

"How much is it?" He puffs smoke. His eyes are still fixated to you.

"It's a bit expensive... I'm sorry." You look down at your knotted fingers. "I got it for 1.5M."

"Reasonable."

"I tried to intimidate the other wives... but it didn't work..."

"You need to work on that."

"I will."

"But don't worry about the money... it's going to a good cause..." He stands up and puts off his cigarette on his used plate. "My mother liked the the jewelry set. She said, thank you."

Relief fills your heart and made you relax a bit. You are thankful that his mother liked the one you picked.

It's the only one you bought in the auction. The event is for charity and Yoongi gave you the go signal to throw money like dimes. He said you can buy anything you want.

You liked a lot of things there. Everything is grand, beautiful, meaningful and unique. But none of them bring joy to you. You don't need them so your heart can't afford to splurge.

"I'll go and get ready for bed..." he says as he stand by the window, looking outside.

"Ah... okay..." you look down at your plate and pick up your fork, to continue eating.

"When you finish..." he starts to walk towards the door, "Come to my room."

"Hmm?" You blink, confused. "Your... room?"

He stops just as he got outside the door and adds before totally closing the door "Ask the maid to braid your hair..."

'Braid your hair'. That means he wants to have sex.

"Sure..." you answer in a whisper though he's already not in the room.

***

You are finally walking in the hallway, on the way to his room. Barefoot and naked. Almost naked.

It has been a routine of you to braid your long hair and then just wear a silk robe over to cover your body. He likes it this way. He have particular things he likes and you follow them.

It's almost 9pm. All the staffs are now in their houses. Yoongi asked them to leave earlier so no one could hear and disturb us.

You took a deep breathe before you get ready to knock on his door. But then to your surprise the double door swings open and you see him, in his black jogger pants and a sheer robe over his naked body. "What took you so long?" His brows are furrowed.

"Sorry..." you lower your gaze from his beautiful face to his toned body.

"Get in." He orders, turning his back on you.

You slowly enter the forbiden room. It's like how you imagine it to be; spacious, dark and earth tone colors everywhere. But the things you've never imagined seeing in there are towers of books and comics on the floor. Then there is a gaming area too.

"Do you play?" He asks as he sits down at the corner of his massive bed.

You shake your head, "No... I'm sorry."

He's smoking again. "Come here." He orders as he puff the smoke in betwern his lips. You move closer to him, cautiously. "Why do you look nervous? It's not like it's our first time."

You are now standing in between his legs. "Sorry..."

He rolls his eyes slightly as he puts his cigarette onto the ashtray. "Why do you keep on apologizing?"

"I..." you pause and wait for him to look back at you. "I don't know."

He snorts, "whatever."

He takes off his robe and throws it somewhere behind you. You were about to do the same as his but he stops your hand from untying your robe.

"Are you on birth control?"

You shake your head. "No... we... I mean... you use condom..."

He didn't say anything after that. He just continued; picks up your braided hair thats lying on your chest and pushes it away. Your breathing picks up as you could feel and see him gazing at you. You even felt your body jerk a little when his finger tip brushed over your hard nipple. The sensation is on max. You needed him to touch you. You missed him touching you.

Yes, this relationship may not be real for him but to you, it's something. Plus, we all have our needs. And when it comes to sex, he delivers. More than you can imagine. And you like playing along with his needs.

He pulls the string keeping your robe on you and just watch it fall off your skin like feather.

You feel your cheeks heat up. You are exposed. He can see that you are already turned on. Your breast giving it all away.

"Come closer..." he orders and you follow.

His hands slides over your hips then goes up to your torso, for him to hold on to you. Hug you. He begins to suck one of your boobs like a baby. His eyes are fully close and his grasping onto your skin like he had been so hungry for so long. He's really enjoying it.

You as well.

"Ahh..." you exhale as you throw your head back. His tongue doing all the works and tickling your insides by just playing at your tip.

After a few more seconds, he stops and looks up at you. And you looking down at him.

"You're so beautiful..." you whisper to him as you run your fingertips over the scar on his face.

You lower your head to meet his lips. He welcomed your kiss like it was meant to be there five minute ago overdue. He is into it more than usual.

He finally gets naked like you. His length is hard and up. It's already leaking and looked very inviting for you to sit on. But you're too shy to make the first move.

You did try to sit on his lap though, legs spread out and core is so wet and ready; just a few inches away for his throbbing length. Then his hand goes in between and starts to rub you in the most sensual way possible.

"Holy shit!" You gasps breaking off from the kiss for a second just to take it all in.

A smug on his face can be seen catching you off guard. He had never reacted to you reacting to his touches like this before.

Your hips begin to rock just to feel his fingers on you.

"Y/n..." You look at him after hearing him say your name. "No condom today."

"O-okay..."

"Make me feel good." He says softly but sturn, pulling you close to his length.

The tip touching your opening already made you roll your eyes. He's so warm and big.

"F-fuck!" You cry as he eases himself into you. "Holy shit! Ugh!"

You start to move slowly, feeling it all in you, finding the pace and ryth. you think you could do all night but at the same time make him satisfied.

"You got tighter." He grunts as you go up and down on him while holding on to his shoulder for balance support.

"Holy fuck!" Your eyes starts to get filled with tears. You found your spot and his length is hitting it perfectly. "Fuck!"

You watch him close his eyes and his face showing how good you're making him feel. His broes is furrowed and his mouth open and hissing tiny breathes with you.

You can't believe it. Someone like you who was inexperience with sex, is now married and making your man look so damn sexy moaning.

"I'm gonna come." He hugs you tigh and begins to kiss you again. "I want to come in you." He opens his eyes and meets yours.

"Fucking come in me." You say

He then carries you as he stands up, changing your positions. Now you're the one on the bed and he's on top of you.

"I will rip you apart." He snarls.

Every fucking thrust is mean and yet satisfying. You feel like your insides shuffled from every hit. But it's not pain. It's heaven.

"Fuck!" He hisses as he climaxes with you.

The warmth inside you feels like a warm blanket during winter. It's felt relaxing.

He is breathing heavily, your hands are intertwined and his still on top and inside of you.

"Yoongi..." you say breathlessly as you admire him over you.

He moves in for a kiss. A soft gentle kiss. "Stay with me tonight..."

*****

Part 2

[wildemaven]

strangers : climax | dave york

pairing: dave york x fireader word count: 6307 content warning: 18+ blog; established relationship, workaholic Dave, Soft Dave, miscommunication, implied/ alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn't know this), Dave's phone deserves its own warning, mention of food and alcohol consumption, a moment in a dressing room where reader inspects her reflection/self image judgments, smut (oral f receiving, fingering, semi public sex, kissing after oral, public affection, some praise if you squint), angst and sad feels, somewhat jealous Dave in a kind of joking manner, lots of tears, reader is mentioned wearing a dress and jeans- but zero description features, no age given but it's implied she's at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know notes: it's finally here!!! I'm so sorry it took so long to get this chapter out into the world. I was working through lots of writing blocks, kids, travel, and sickness. But it's finally here!!!! This one is a doozy in so many ways but I'm so excited for it!! I'm so grateful for everyone who takes the time to read, share, comment and like each chapter of this series. I'm sad it's almost over!!

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It’s almost sadistic. Taunting every single fiber of your being as each chord of the melody, so perfectly orchestrated, looms over the hotel bar. 

Your body betrays you. So easily giving in to the song's familiarity as each word reverberates through your chest. Flashes of Dave dressed in black, spinning you in front of your closest family and friends drowned out the urge to ask for the song to be skipped. 

The liveliness of the crowd pouring into the dimly lit space helps block out the music. Your fingers swirl around the condensation slowly settling around your drink that sits untouched on the mahogany bar top. Your mind sifting through the day's events leading up to this moment, where you’re sitting alone, annoyance raging in your veins, in a dress you're starting to regret buying. 

*

Lunch was relaxed and pleasant. The oceanfront views of the small cafe were something straight out of a movie. The weather was warm enough to enjoy the patio dining, a subtle breeze cutting through periodically. The ocean swells breaking masked the bustle of beach goers and passing cars. It was everything you had wanted to experience in this beautiful city.

Dave had been fully present since the intimate moment you both shared back at the hotel. More than he had been the entire trip thus far. Keeping you close to him, his hands never leaving you once stepping out of the room. As if to silently say I’m all here with you and I love you. 

You relished in the closeness of him. Internally screaming with increasing avidity at his electrifying advances all afternoon. 

Pulling your chair closer to where he sat so his free hand could nestle between your thighs. Too focused on twirling the pasta around your fork between discussing the most current events Dave had read in the morning paper while waiting for you to return from your walk. 

Growing and falling Stocks. Government scandals that could trickle down and affect parts of his job. National affairs of all levels that jumped out to him. All things you hadn’t really kept up with until meeting Dave, were now things you looked forward to listening to him talk about and giving your input with your own perspective. 

It's when Dave starts discussing something about sports or sports related that throws you off balance. Not necessarily so much in what he’s saying, but in what he’s doing when he’s saying it. 

“So if they draft him this year, he’ll be a starting rookie…” Dave says as he shifts forward in his chair to adjust his position, hand slightly shifting where it still rests between your legs, his pinky sliding up the crotch seam of your denim with an ample amount of pressure. 

“I’ve got money on him this season…” Your mind is too cloudy to even focus on what he’s saying. 

An instant jolt of arousal splinters across your body, you use your napkin to hopefully muffle the moan you nearly choke on. Oh! It’s deliberate, Dave’s expression collected and unphased as he carries on, continuing to drag his digit up and down the thick layer of fabric. 

“You okay, Honey?” He smirks, applying a little more weight behind his touch, before directing his attention to the server passing by the table and signaling for the check.

“Mmhmm— y-yeah! I’m fine. Great!” Your voice pitches at an unusual tone, frantically nodding in response as you wring the napkin between your fingers trying to not succumb to the pleasure currently building in your core. 

It’s a tragic feeling when his hand abandons the heat of your thighs. His focus now is on inspecting the bill, pulling his wallet from his back pocket and tucking the proper amount of cash into the server’s book. 

“That’s good.” He says all blasé as he looks at you with deadpan expression, situating his wallet in place again. 

“Oh my god— Dave! You are the worst!” You toss your napkin at him, shaking your head as you laugh at his flirtatious behavior. 

*

A proper casualness flows between the two of you following lunch— a familiar domesticity that had become so foreign to you. It now almost seems too far-fetched to think things have been strained in the last few months leading up to today and this seemingly perfect afternoon with Dave. 

A stitch of guilt begins to weave through your mind as you take in Dave’s unreserved laughter and the way he looks so, extremely happy. Maybe you were premature in believing that there was anything wrong to begin with. 

There’s a liveliness to Dave that has felt so rare to witness as of recently. No signs of stress. No closed off demeanor. No inkling of any distress that threatens to disrupt a marriage you so desperately desire to keep intact. 

He’s remarkably your Dave— through and through. 

The sun becomes far more dominating as the day passes. It’s fiery intensity has you squinting as you step out of the cute little ice cream shop you dragged Dave into after lunch. 

Thankfully you’re more than prepared. A pair of dark sunglasses now perched on the bridge of your nose and the light fabric tank you opted for thanks to Dave’s attentive nature for planning, always checking the weather forecast incessantly as he sips from his morning coffee.

It’s no surprise at the influx of tourists that crowd the sidewalk as you both amble about. Your arm wrapped around Dave, his free hand gently resting at the nape of your neck, both of you working against the heat to keep your ice cream from dripping down the cone. 

There’s a silence that hangs around the enjoyment of the summer treat, but it’s not uncomfortable. People watching and window shopping paired with brief moments of sweet banter have seemed to reignite the flame that had slowly begun to dwindle. 

“Woah!” A swarm of teenagers rocketing by on skateboards out of nowhere has you stunned, several of them nearly knocking into you. 

“What the fuck!” Dave’s quick like reflexes immediately turn on and he’s pulling you into his chest as the last few of the trailing skateboarders roll by. “Get off the sidewalk before you hurt someone, you punks!” 

“Yeah yeah! Fuck off old man!” The last of the bunch, a typical backwards hat wearing unphased teen, yells over his shoulder raising his middle finger as he skates off into the distance. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, giving you a quick once over. 

“I’m fine. They didn’t hit me— just startled me more than anything.” You assure him. 

“Still— those little assholes almost sideswiped you. And that little fucker calling me an old man?” Dave grumbles, following your lead to continue walking despite wanting to track down the group and give them a piece of his mind. 

“Easy, they’re just having fun. If I remember correctly, you too were once a little asshole. There’s a laundry list of stories your mom has shared with me to back that up too.” He scoffs at your comment, knowing exactly which stories his mom has divulged to you about his wild adolescent years. 

Your favorite being when a senior year prank almost resulted in suspension and losing scholarships. Dave and a few of his high school friends had decided to toilet paper and egg the principal’s home one night. The group of teens had thought they pulled it off until they came to school and their pictures were plastered in every classroom— security cameras were not taken into account while planning such a prank. Dave’s parents caught wind of the incident and the missing rolls of TP from their home and forced Dave to turn himself in. Dave confessed as a lone prankster, adamant that he didn’t know who the other students were in the images, resulting in tutoring lower grade classmates the remainder of the semester and a few weekends of community service. 

“I’m not an old man.” He murmurs against your temple, pressing his lips to your warm skin. His hand settles into your back pocket directing his attention to his almost finished ice cream. 

“Didn’t say you were.” Grinning at his annoyance. “Your mom earlier— How is she? Everything okay?”

“She’s good. Everything’s good. Just checking in. Making sure we’re settling in okay here— you know how she is.” It feels like he’s saying a lot without saying much of anything. 

“Yeah— definitely sounds like her. Feels like it’s been forever since I’ve talked to her. We should invite them over for dinner when we get back. Proper catch up— share about our trip with them in person.” You look at him, his head nodding along at the suggestion. 

You’ve always had a close relationship with his mother, Carol. Weekly trips to the farmers market and coffee dates became a regular thing after you and Dave married. Family dinners took place once a month, rotating between each other’s houses or restaurants. Carol never wanted to be one of those overbearing mother in laws, always making sure that you and Dave didn’t feel suffocated by her and Dave’s dad’s presence. 

“Okay. I’ll umm— I’ll call her when we get back. See what her and dad’s calendar looks like. I’m sure they’ll jump at the chance to get together, since our busy schedules haven’t seemed to line up in the last few months.” 

“Perfect.” 

There’s a beat of silence that follows making plans with his parents. Like there was more he wanted to say but left it unsaid. You don’t push for more and let any needling thought dissolve. 

“How was it?” Dave points to the remaining milky soup that’s settled into the top of your semi soggy cone. 

“It was delicious.” You tell him, then lapping at a few random drips racing down your wrist with your tongue, savoring the last of its salty sweetness.

“Let me have a taste of it.” He says, pulling you both out of the main flow of people walking behind you. 

“What? You don’t even like this flavor, Mr. Vanilla is the only flavor that truly matters.” You playfully mock his go-to choice of a single scoop of plain vanilla, not even a punch of vanilla bean or a sprinkling of chocolate chunks— he’s a simple man. 

“Maybe my taste buds have evolved?” He counters, pulling you flush against him under the shade of a store awning. “Give me a taste.” 

Everything around you fades to the background, it’s just the two of you. Dave’s lips molding to yours. His tongue gently skims over your lower lip, silently seeking entrance. 

It’s unhurried and thorough. A stark contrast from the chilly sensation that still lingers from the frozen dessert and the heat emanating from the way Dave’s tongue languidly traces over every bit of surface he can reach. Dizzying your senses, your mind fully immersed in the way he still tastes of sweet vanilla as he explores every detail of your mouth. Lapping at the remnants of the melted salted caramel that coats your tongue. 

It’s vulnerable and thrilling— feeling so right and fully present together. 

Your ice cream cone falls from your hand, crashing hard on the cement walkway, giving you the freedom to wrap your hands around his neck and relax even more into the kiss as Dave guides you through it. His hand squeezes your ass through your denim pocket, securing you against him. His other hand cradles your face as he swallows the small moans you produce when he nips tenderly at your bottom lip. 

“Dave—“ Is the only coherent word you can think of when he finally breaks the kiss. Your fingers tighten around his short hair as you float back to the ground. 

“I like the way it tastes on you. Might be my new favorite flavor.” He smiles, releasing small puffs of his breath over your lips. 

*

It was the first shop that caught your attention, the front display had you stopping in your tracks. Your initial interest to merely window shop, a signal to Dave that you were interested in the possibility of checking out more of their inventory. 

“Sweetheart? You doing okay in there?” Dave asks cautiously, as if to not scare off any potential decisions you might be deliberating over from behind the velvet curtain of the dressing room. 

It’s nothing new, a song and dance you’ve been through before— turning and inspecting from head to toe. Your mind in an epic battle with the reflection framed in front of you, dreading anytime you step foot in anything that resembles a fitting room. 

Except this time you’re not tearing apart every little thing about what you’re seeing, finding all the negative reasons as to why this particular dress isn’t working.

It’s the complete opposite, because you love the dress and you can see yourself wearing it on many occasions without a doubt. 

An ambered hue that reminds you of autumn when the leaves turn, and Dave spending hours in the yard gathering pile after pile while you bake a seasonal pie, watching him from the kitchen window. 

The tiered tulle fabric plucks a peculiar scene from your memory. Its flowy and dramatic silhouette is reminiscent of the dress you had worn to last year’s CIA Gala. Dave kept you close for the entirety of the evening. Your arm wrapped around his as he talked with colleagues, some new whose names you wouldn’t remember and others who had slowly worked their way into a more permanent place in your lives with regular dinner parties and monumental celebrations. Dave’s hand planted on the small of your back, his thumb drawing soft shapes where your dress strategically exposed your back, you were his grounding force among a sea of highly regarded men and their significant others.

“Hey- is everything okay?” Dave’s head now visible as he pulls the curtain back just enough to check in with you, his hushed tone barely audible over the upbeat music that the trendy boutique has playing through the store. 

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” You say flatly as you continue to inspect your reflection, the hang tag with the bold asking price of the dress held between your restless fingers.

“Wow— Sweetheart, you look… Wow!” Speechless. Dave stands stunned behind you, taking in every bit of you, completely captivated.

“Yeah? It feels like a lot. I have a dress back at the room I can wear instead…” You say, watching the arduous battle he’s sorting through in his mind, his smitten smirk doing wonders to help settle your dress turmoil.

“No— No this, this is perfect. I love it so much. You definitely should get this one.” Dave says persuasively, a beat of sensualism exuding from where he now stands with his chest flush to your back, his hands attempting to bypass the layers of fabric in search of somewhere to efficiently affix himself to you. “Reminds me of that dress you wore to the Gala last year. You looked stunning. So much so I couldn’t keep my hands off of you the entire night. Pulled you into that closet and fucked you while the awards ceremony carried on.”

“Hmm, I remember.” You smile, your stomach flipping at the way he so vividly remembers that evening too. “But the price is a little much though. Like too much.” Dropping the price tag, allowing it to hang freely from the dress instead of mocking your sticker shop distress.

“Don’t worry about the price— it’s fine.” You gasp when he connects with your skin, a shiver zipping up your spine, his lips fervent and assertive as they work up the expanse of your neck.

Dave’s hand catches your head as it tips to the side, allowing him more ample space to roam. Your skin in his teeth triggers a soft whimper in your throat, your eyes fluttering closed as you get lost in the sensation of him.

It’s a blur of calculated movements on his part, your body receptive to his smooth control, moving along with ease until your back settles against the wall of the dressing room. The carpeted floor envelops the sound of him falling to his knees. Dave’s eyes glazed over as he stares up at you, their usual golden hue dappled with gleaming eagerness. His hands fumble with the hem of the dress skirt briefly, delighted when he finally manages to breach the abundant layers of fabric. The brush of his fingers on your skin as his hands skim up your legs is all the forewarning you’re given before he’s pulling down and removing the lace panties that you’ve been soaking through all afternoon because of him.

“Dave— what are you doing?” A breathless question, one you don’t really need a response to as he looks up to you one more time, his pointer finger resting on his mouth then lifting your leg over one of his shoulders. 

He takes in the sight of your glistening wetness, his mouth watering at how you’re dripping for him. The urge to taste you is strong and he gives into it fully. 

From above all you can see is bunched fabric and brown tousled locks when he connects to you, his angular nose pressed into the patch of hair that covers your mound, that first tentative kiss to your sex delicate and heady. The soft pressure of his flat tongue has your eyes rolling back when he starts to lick up and down, savoring the deliciously sweet taste of your arousal. Desire forging through your body with a deep buzzing intensity. 

“Oh fuck! If we get caught— Ah!Shit. Dave— Baby, that feels amazing—” You purr in what you hope is a hushed tone, tilting your pelvis just so, a dire need for a climactic release. 

Dave’s tongue moves in slow circles, teasing and flicking at your clit. His ministrations causing a slow tingle to build in your lower abdomen, steadily increasing in strength as he goes. 

“Ma’am, how’s everything going in there?” The store attendant asks, completely unaware of the lewdness taking place on the other side of the current. 

“Mmhmmm! Great! The dress is p-perfect!!” Your voice shoots up an octave when Dave inserts two fingers into your fluttering pussy in one quick thrust, moving them in and out, matching the rhythm of his tongue on your aching clit. 

“That’s so great to hear. If you need any help, don’t hesitate to holler.” She says before you hear the clicking of her boots retreating. 

You are squirming and quietly moaning, your knees nearly buckling as the fiery pleasure gains momentum, completely lost in the blissful sensation.

“You hear that, Baby. She said don’t hesitate to holler. Doing so good for me— I can never get enough of you!” His fingers hitting that delicious little spot that makes your toes curl, over and over again. 

“Dave— don’t stop!” And he doesn’t. 

He senses the tension building in your body, your walls seizing up around his deft fingers, intensifying his movements, his tongue lapping at every inch of your folds as your arousal runs down his hand. 

“Baby, I'm coming.” You say right before your jaw goes slack, a silent whine only noticeable to you and Dave fills the small space. Your vision dusted in white, a euphoric sensory cloud of light bursting behind your eyes. 

Dave catches you when it becomes too much to stand, whimpering at the loss of his fingers seated so firmly inside you. 

Your skin is dewy. Glowing under the small dressing room light. The beads of sweat running down the length of your neck, sliding down the slopes of your breast, migrating somewhere below the fabric of the dress. 

Dave catches a few salty drops, his tongue trailing over your clavicle makes you aware that he has removed himself from the underside of the skirt. 

You taste the brininess and the sweet tang of your arousal when he licks into your mouth. Zero time to catch your breath, his tongue tangling effortlessly with yours. 

“Hmmm— I take back what I said earlier. I love the way you taste— only flavor for me!” He says smirking against your tingling lips. 

“You are such a menace. But I love you for it.” You pull him in for one last chaste kiss. 

“I love you so much, Sweetheart.” He kisses your forehead, then bends to pick up your discarded panties, stuffing them in his front pocket. 

“Seems like it would be wrong to not buy the dress after that little move you pulled.” Giggling as you begin the process of undoing the back zipper. 

“Knew that would help sway your decision.” He says with an impish grin and wink. 

*

Your reservation has come and gone. 30 minutes to be exact. Misery and frustration fill your veins as you stir the tiny straw in the watered-down concoction. The cocktail-soaked cherry, normally your inaugural sprinkling of how well the drink was mixed, now lays overlooked and forgotten at the bottom of the glass.

The bartender, who checks in with you like clockwork every 10 minutes or so to see if you needed a refill albeit your obvious lack of consumption from the original drink he made, has shown zero annoyance over the fact that you have taken up space in not one, but two chairs at his bustling bar. Your small clutch placed in front of the empty seat reserved for your husband who was supposed to meet you here an hour ago.

*

Dave and you had made your way back to the hotel after purchasing the dress, giving yourselves plenty of time to get ready for the evening Dave had planned out.

It was hard to keep your hands off each other. a magnetic effervescence had you contemplating whether to call off the reservation all together despite Dave’s ecstatic adamancy to make it to the reservation on time. Both of you managed to work against the intense pull, only sharing shy glances and brushing of limbs standing side by side in front of the bathroom mirror while getting ready.

Dave didn’t shy away from flattering you as he helped zip you in, causing you to fight against tears that threatened to ruin the dramatic makeup that paired perfectly with your dress.

I love you. You are so beautiful. How did I get so lucky? I can’t wait to get you out of this dress later.

Dave’s hand molds to yours, a corner of his mouth lifted as you eagerly drag him from your hotel room. Taking advantage of the privacy the small offshoot hallway provides from the main corridor of the floor, he draws you back to him and without hesitation he kisses you with a fiery tenderness. 

“Alright. We need to go.” He says, breathless and not all that convincing. 

“Do we though? We could just swipe the key, make our way back inside, order room service— you can get me out of this dress. See what I may or may not be wearing underneath.” You murmur against his smile, your tongue sensually gliding over the underside of his upper lip causing him to release a heavy sigh, as if he really wants to do exactly just that. 

“You drive a hard bargain, Sweetheart. And as enticing as all of that sounds— amuse me and go along with what I have planned. The sooner we go, the sooner we can get back here and I can slowly undress you.” He counters, leaving you little room to dispute his well thought out plan for the evening. 

“Alright, Mr. York. We'll play by your rules.” You bat your eyelashes at him. “Dinner. Then straight back here—“

A soft buzzing cuts you off. Dave’s body tenses against yours, releasing you from his hold to retrieve his phone from his black slacks. 

“I need to take this— it’s work.” His demeanor completely shifting from his usual sweet carefree self to closed off and mysterious. 

“Okay. Call them later then. They can leave you a message.” You reach for his hand to continue to make your way down to the restaurant. He pulls away, promptly taking a few steps back, his focus still on the number flashing on his phone screen. 

You’re not sure what hurts more. The fact that Dave is putting work first once again or how he so quickly recoiled when you reached for him. 

“I can’t. I need to take it.” He says, finally looking at you with pleading eyes, and you hate how much you so willingly give into his need to brush off the plans he was only moments ago so eager to get to. 

“Dave— Fine.” Releasing a heavy sigh into the narrow hallway, tightening your grip on the small purse that holds your phone, lip gloss and key card, doing your best to mask the resentment and defeat simmering just below the surface. 

“I’ll be quick. Go grab us a seat at the bar and I’ll meet you there when I’m finished.” He doesn’t give you an opportunity to get another word in, turning to let himself back into the room. 

The bottom of your dress floats in the air, kicking out with each step you take, making your way to the main hall of the floor in the direction of the elevator. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone yet again. Suppressing your swirling emotions for the time being.  

Dave’s hushed voice echoes down the walls. Never actually making back into the room before answering the call. Out in the open. Zero care that his wife is still within earshot. 

“Hey, Ashley… Yeah, she just left. I told her to just wait for me at the bar.” 

You stop dead in your tracks. The swish of your dress is now still at your feet, hanging in its normal wearing state. Your blood runs cold as your brain rapidly tries to digest what you just heard. 

Your heart clings to how easily Dave had been so present and affectionate since this morning. That sinking feeling of your suspicions being revealed. I knew this whole day was too good to be true. 

Everything feels like it’s narrowing. The hallway. Your vision. Your airway. Smaller and smaller. 

Something compels you to keep moving. Further from Dave. Closer to being alone at the bar, away from this man who you no longer find recognizable at this moment. 

*

“Excuse me. Can I get a Scotch, neat, side of water please?” Dave’s whereabouts are no longer unknown to you, leaning an elbow onto the bar as he orders himself a drink, his other hand resting on the back of the chair that has kept you comfortable while you wait. 

“Sorry, that took longer than expected.” Dave apologizes, sealing it with a kiss to your cheek. 

You hum a lackluster response. Gnawing at your bottom lip as you focus on the dilapidated napkin you’ve been rolling and unraveling, folding and unfolding for the umpteenth time. 

“You okay?” Dave asks, his hand moves to rest on your back but now it’s your turn to recoil from his touch, leaning forward before he’s able to make contact. 

“Yeah— I’m great.” You say flatly, only briefly looking at him to deliver your annoyed smile, then back to the crinkled napkin that’s now serving as an absorbent to pooling condensation. 

“Here you are sir.” The bartender interrupts, placing the single malt and ice water on the bar, Dave nods his thanks. 

You don’t have it in you to pry or question his tardiness. So you continue to sit in silence, watching Dave out of your peripheral properly dilute his drink so it’s suitable for sipping. 

“You’re not wearing your ring?” He points out to your bare ring finger then takes a light sip of the diluted scotch. 

The fingers of your left hand pause, fanning out so you can inspect the observation yourself. The usually adorned finger is stripped, lacking your wedding band and engagement ring.  

“Oh— I must have forgotten to put it back on after we went to the pool…” You hadn’t realized how naked it felt all day, the fingers of your right hand soothing over the indent skin, recalling when you had tossed the jewelry haphazardly into your bag yesterday. 

“You don’t think these strangers will get the wrong idea?” You sense an attempt at humor in his voice, only he has failed to read the room. His government skills not sensing you have zero interest in Dave’s untimely decision to be a humorist. “A beautiful woman, alone at a bar, without her wedding rings— Don’t want—“

“Excuse me— can you put my drink on his tab? He’ll be taking care of it, along with your generous tip.” You alert the passing bartender. You swivel your barstool just enough to reach around Dave’s solid form to grab your purse, then swivel in the opposite direction to stand. You tuck your purse under your arm, before delivering the irritation that has finally begun to boil over. “I think the only stranger confused about our marriage is you, Dave.” 

“Wait— Where are you going?” His hand gently clasped around your upper arm, halting your departure. 

You glance down at where his hand holds you, his thumb actively moving in soft circles over your skin, trying his best to distract and diffuse the air between you. Unfortunately, too little too late. 

“I’ve been sitting here waiting for you, Dave— for a fucking hour. I’m going back to the room.” You pull your arm from his grip and leave without another word. 

Dave somehow manages to catch the same elevator, but you don’t bother acknowledging his presence as he stands on the opposite side of the small metal cabin. The other riding passengers don’t suspect you two even know each other or the emanant rift that is unfolding between you, just two lone hotel guests sharing a lift to their designated floor. 

2 stops allow for the other guests to get on to their respective floors, leaving only you and Dave left to continue the ride to the final stop. 

The striking silence is met with electric chords spilling from the small speakers in the elevator. The familiar tune feels like an old friend you’ve been reacquainted with after months apart. Those first few lines wrap around you, embracing you fully— I’ve missed you so. The chorus drawing your gaze to where your husband stands slouched against the mirrored wall, looking equally as somber as you feel, his eyes already drawn to you in the same manner. 

A smile tugs at your lips, a fleeting moment of remembrance to that night so many years ago. That night where Dave was more than just a stranger in a bar. He was your future. Your home. Dave without a doubt was the best thing to happen to you. 

The memory of meeting Dave is interrupted by a soft ding and the doors slowly unveiling your intended destination. 

You stalk towards the room with a graceful backbone, a beautiful facade to how you truly feel inside, keeping yourself together with each poised stride. Dave takes his position two steps behind, vigilantly in tune with your body language. 

There’s a sense of relief that overcomes you the second the door closes and the lock clicks. No longer needing to keep a composed demeanor to prying eyes. No longer allowing the hurt to fester and torment your heart in a stealthily manner. 

They flow furiously once they start. Tears streaming down your face. Silent sobs cracking in your throat. 

You move about busily, grabbing and tossing, too lost in your own blurry thoughts to even notice Dave standing there watching you. 

“What are you doing?” Dave asks, perplexed by the way you’re flinging item after item into your suitcase that lays open on the bed. 

“You’re a smart man, Dave. I’m sure you can figure that out.” Grabbing a drawer’s entire contents and dropping it messily into your bag. 

“I get that you’re packing. Why are you packing is my concern.” He takes a timid step closer towards the streamline process of you moving about. 

“I’m going home. I’ll catch a ride to the airport. Book a new flight when I get there. I can have Jacey pick me up when I land.” A plan you had thoroughly developed before Dave had arrived at the bar. 

“Wait— you’re going home? Why? What’s going on?” He steps directly into your path, hindering your progress. 

“I don’t know anymore, Dave. I thought this was what we needed. Some time away together. Away from work. Away from our normal lives. Just us reconnecting. But it seems like this whole thing was just wasted effort.” You try to wipe the tears, but they just continue to fall. 

“Baby, you’re not making any sense right now.” He knows he should allow you space, but the urge to pull you into him is stronger. 

“It’s been months. Months of you working long hours. Months of missed dinners and late nights at the office. Months of being alone at night wondering if you’re okay and when you’ll be home. Months of worrying that something is happening between us and trying to figure out how to fix it.” Each convulsive gasp for air you struggle for fans across Dave’s neck. His arms tightening around you, every word slicing through his chest. 

“Fuck—“ He murmurs, his cheek pressed into the side of your head, your tearful confession not anything he expected to hear tonight. 

“If you didn’t want to c-come with me— I would have u-understood.” Your shoulders jostle in Dave’s arms, your own arms hanging at your side, still holding a few loose garments in your fists. 

“What? No! Baby, I wanted to come. I want to be here— with you.” Dave pulls back, enough so you can see the sureness in his eyes. 

“What about her? Wouldn’t you rather be here with— h-her?” Your voice cracks at the thought of Dave with someone who isn’t you. 

“Her? What are you talking about?” 

“Ashley— She’s the important phone calls you’ve been taking. The work that can’t wait. She’s why you’ve been so distant with me for months.” It feels like glass the minute it leaves your mouth, shattering across your tongue, nearly choking on the tiny little shards. 

“Honey, you think I’m having an affair?” A nod is all your weary state can give. An affair— it’s the only thing that makes sense to you right now. 

“I heard you talking to her several times since we got here, Dave. The last time being when you told me you had to take an important call and you would meet me at the bar before our dinner reservation.” 

You’re not sure what you expect him to do now that he’s been caught. Confess to his actions. Tell you everything from the beginning. Get on his knees and beg for forgiveness. It was a mistake, it will never happen again. 

What you don’t expect is to see a single tear fall down his handsome face. To see a look of rich tenderness in his eyes. Warmth in his touch as he wipes away the wet worriment painted over your face. 

“Baby— Fuck, I’m so sorry. To say that this trip so far has been stressful would be an understatement. Nothing I had planned for this trip has gone right— even after months and months of preparation. And you’re right, they weren’t work phone calls— not all of them at least. I’m so sorry for making you feel like I didn’t want to be here— I do. I want to tell you everything, but I think it’s best if I show you first.” 

“Show me what?” You ask him. 

“Come with me so you can see for yourself. And if you still want to go home afterwards, we’ll leave tonight.” Dave’s head tilts, his eyes searching yours hoping to relieve any reservations you still might be internally feeling. 

“I look like a blubbering mess right now.” You use what you now realize are a pair of socks to wipe any streaks of makeup smeared on your face. 

“No you don’t. I think you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” He says, his lips molding over yours are a sobering reflection of his love for you. 

Not much else is said on the trek back down to the lobby, allowing Dave to take you to wherever this mysterious place is. 

There’s a nervousness about him, his jitters, while subtle, are loud and obvious. Holding his sweaty palm against yours. His other hand actively fidgeting in his pocket. Head tilt back, then forward, stretching his neck from side to side. 

You lean into his shoulder, tucking your free hand under his arm, hoping to ground him a bit. It helps, you feel him relax instantly into your touch. His lips pressing to the side of your head, Thank you. 

“Dave, where are we going?” You ask as you walk in an unfamiliar area of the hotel. 

“Almost there.” He says, his fingers squeezing in small bursts against your hand. 

It’s a long hallway covered in an elaborate wallpaper with rich details of floral patterns and bold hues. It's dimly lit due to the fact that there’s zero windows, the only light is given by the mid century style sconce fixtures lining the walls. Potted plants strategically placed around sculptures and empty velvet chairs. 

You’re met with two large wooden doors as you approach the end of the hall, but it’s the woman standing in front of them that has your attention. She’s beautiful, actually she’s stunning. Her smile is so warm and inviting, beaming at you as you and Dave walk closer to where she stands. It’s as if she’s been expecting you, waiting diligently for your arrival. 

“Good evening Mr. and Mrs. York. My name is Ashley.” 

[sherewrytes]

T. A. R (Time, Appreciation, Respect)

(I'll always want you part 2)

Synopsis: Ony was calling Y/N constantly these days, trying to always reach out to talk and say his piece. Y/N wasn't sure if she was ready for it.

C.W. Angst, Black coded reader, Drug use (weed). Song links used as reference.

Fanfic inspired by the following song.

Solange: Cranes in the sky

Link for part one here

Time had passed since your confrontation with Ony on that fateful night. The sting of betrayal still lingered, casting a shadow over your every thought and action. You still find herself unable to shake the memories of everything that took place between you and Ony and the raw emotions it had unleashed.

It's 2:30 AM. You lie awake, replaying the conversation with Ony in your mind. A part of you acknowledges he may be right, yet you find it impossible to converse without being overwhelmed by emotions.

You heard Annie out on her part to play in all this but not Ony. You didn't have class until 2pm today so you had enough time to sleep some more if needed. You got out of bed, stretched, went to your desk to journal to clear your mind.

You lit the candle on your desk, opened your journal and poured your feelings into it. The pen felt heavy in your hand, similar to how your heart felt in your chest. You wrote about the confusion swirling within you, torn between the logic of Ony's words and the ache of betrayal that still lingered deep within your soul. Memories flashed through your mind of happier times, of sad times and every moment in between. You knew you should hear him out but, you couldn't decide if you were ready or not.

You closed the journal and texted Sasha to see if she was awake. You needed someone to talk to. Sasha responded almost immediately saying she's in the area, so she'd be over in a few and she has Connie and Eren with her.

You sighed and responded. You went to your kitchen to make a quick midnight snack for you and your quests. 15 mins later, at your apartment is Sasha, Connie and Eren.

Connie: "Is it okay if I smoke in here. Between Uni, my music shit and other shit. I'm stressed out."

You: "It's cool. I do smoke sometimes, well used to with Ony. Speaking of Ony. He's been calling my phone nonstop.

*Turns to Eren* He said you've been on his ass about me. Eren the fuck you on boy.

Eren sighed "Look I'm just looking out for him. Ony is taking this harder that I've seen him take anything. Him and I go way back. Ony only shows up to class, messages me for some weed well hella weed. He aint even in the studio much either."

You knew Eren, Connie, Mikasa and Ony were music majors at Paradis University which you all attended. Eren was the lowkey producer type that makes beats to rival the greats. Connie is a rising hip hop artist and Ony is a cross between Trap Soul and Rap. Mikasa was the soulful girl with a beautiful voice. You knew Ony never missed studio time for nothing, so you knew he was struggling.

"When last did he show up." Y/N asked Eren with some concern in her tone.

"Probably 2 months ago before that it was 3 months before that. Look you don't have to force yourself to talk to him or bear his wounds or help him heal from the mess he made on his own. It ain't your job to, What I'm asking is if you can hear him out even if its 5 minutes if you can't then Imma tell him to drop it."

You sat in silence for a bit truly wondering what to do, so you turned to Sasha. "Honestly I want to hear him out, I do but I need more time. I know everyone thinks I forgave Annie so easy, but Ony and I had something deeper than Annie and I had even with our years of friendship. Ya we were fighting and at odds that time but..I know I'm being dumb cause Annie is just as responsible as he was. I just need to clear my head some more."

Connie took a toke of his joint and passed it to Eren then Eren to Sasha. Sasha pulled out her phone and connected it to the speakers in your apartment and started playing L.E.S by Childish Gambino. They all passed the joint around the room you took a few hits here and there. Eren was mindlessly scrolling through his IG to see Ony posted a 15 sec video on IG with a link in the caption to his YouTube to his latest track Amphetamine.

Eren blurted out with a bit of shock, "What the fuck, Ony just dropped a new song. It looks like he changed his artist's name from Ony to Soro. I mean he mentioned the change last time he came in the studio. Yo Sasha disconnect real quick lemme listen to this real quick."

Sasha disconnected her phone to allow Eren to pull up the track. " The song is almost 8 mins WTF is Ony on" Eren says.

The beat kicks in with this smooth, laid-back vibe that immediately hooks you in. Everyone's silent giving the track a listen.

" It's like an amphetamine, how it marinate on my mind (stuck on me, yah) Got no doubt I'll be alright, if I just make it through the night."

You can hear, almost feel the range of emotions in the song. You can hear Ony's voice pouring out his feelings. The beat changes around 2:48 seconds in giving a whole different vibe to the song.

"Shawty cold as December, I still fold her, no Manila B-b-b-brr wit me baby, I hibernate, smoke the lettuce."

Everyone was vibing with the song until they heard Mikasa's voice drop on the track around 4:28 Everyone a bit surprised since Mikasa doesn't easily do features even if it's with her friends. Connie laughed a bit "He got Mikasa on this with him. Damn he really went all out. Aye Eren aint this the same beat he said he didn't want around 5 maybe 6 months ago?" Eren laughed thinking back to when he played this beat for Ony, and he said he hated it. Ony owed him big time for this, but he'll circle back to it. As the song finished. You sat with your eyes full of tears. You thought to yourself that you could feel every emotion Ony sang about in the song. The loss of their relationship, his struggles with his mental health and so much more.

Connie was the first the chime in when the song ended "Damn that was.... deep." "Yah it was Ony really flipped the script on this one." Eren chimed in.

Eren got a notification that Ony was live on IG. He clicked on it. He saw he was talking about his just dropped song and other usual shit that's going on in his life.

Ony's eyes were the newfound usual shade of slight bloodshot red from smoking and hardly any sleep. He was reading off a comment asking him who inspired him to write the song. he responded with "Someone but also no one."

Ony's voice flowed through the speakers in your apartment causing Eren to disconnect his phone to watch the live a bit easier.

He commented saying "Fire track man, wish you'd let me know you were droppin a song man."

Ony read the comment out loud and smirked and said "Sorry man. I wanted it to be a personal project, but I owe you one big time for the beat."

Ony and Eren were engaging in their usual banter in the comments of Ony's Instagram live. You were deep in thought when Ony read aloud a comment from someone claiming his song was inspired by his ex-girlfriend. Ony and you had a semi-public relationship, which is due to his rising fame as a Trap Soul/rap artist.

Ony sighed, his mind drifting back to the last time he saw you in person, when you came to return his belongings from your place. He had seen you around campus since then, but it simply wasn't the same. His response was "It was inspired by pain. Pain of loss, loss of love, loss of hopes, loss of dreams. Loss of self. She's part of something I lost in my life."

Ony paused, his gaze drifting off as he recalled the bittersweet memories. He took a deep breath, trying to push away the ache in his chest as he continued, his voice laden with emotion. "So yeah, she's part of what I lost, but 'Amphetamine' is also about finding myself again. It's about reclaiming my voice, my truth, and pouring it all out into my music."

A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, though sadness lingered in his eyes. "Maybe one day she'll hear this song and understand. Understand that she's not just a memory, but a muse who ignited something within me, something I'll carry with me forever."

With that, Ony concluded, the weight of his words hanging heavy in the air. The live disconnected indicating he ended it abruptly.

As the live session ends abruptly, the room falls into a heavy silence. You, sits with a mix of emotions swirling within yourself. Ony's words echo in your mind, resonating deeply with your own conflicted feelings. You can't shake the sense of nostalgia and longing that his music and words evoke. Sasha breaks the silence, her voice soft yet determined. "Y/N, are you okay?" she asks, her concern evident.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts before responding. "I don't know, Sasha," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sasha nods understandingly, her eyes reflecting empathy. "I get it. It's hard to hear someone express their pain so openly, especially when it's intertwined with your own." Eren chimes in, his tone reflective. "Yeah, but maybe that's what he needs right now. It's better than him bottling it up and tryna smoke it all away."

Connie exhales a puff of smoke, his expression contemplative. "True, but it's also a lot to unpack. Y/N, you don't have to rush into anything. Take your time to process everything, to figure out what you need and want. What Ony did was messed up"

You nod, grateful for your friends' support. "Thanks, guys. I think…I think I need some time alone to sort through my thoughts."

With that que, Eren, Sasha and Connie left your apartment. you walk through your apartment heading to your room, the melody of Ony's song still echoing in your mind. Your emotions even more confusing than when you talked to Ony earlier. You looked at the time. It was almost 5 am. You decided to shower and head back to bed, hoping to get some rest before class.

Your mind was restless, torn between Ony's latest track and his words during the IG live, you were conflicted. On one hand, you acknowledged missing him, but on the other, infidelity was something you could never condone in a relationship. You recognized a desire to listen to his explanation, yet you feared your heart might not endure his version of the events.

The weight of Ony's words hangs heavy in the air, suffocating your mind with intense thoughts. Alone amidst the dim glow of your bedside lamp, the words "Maybe one day she'll hear this song and understand." taunt you with the possibility of reconciliation and closure. You thought to yourself "How could I ever hope to understand the depths of his pain when my own wounds still bleed with the memory of his betrayal?"

Finally entering your room, you sink onto the edge of the bed, burying your face in trembling hands, desperate to silence the cacophony of thoughts threatening to consume you.

"Take your time to process everything, to figure out what you need and want." Connie's words echo faintly in her mind. With a trembling sigh, you rise from the bed, your steps faltering as you make your way to the bathroom. The steady stream of water cascades over your trembling form, washing away the tears that stain your cheeks.

"It's 5 am. I should try to get some rest before class," you think to yourself. Climbing out of the shower, your limbs feel heavy. Wrapping yourself in a towel, the fabric offers a feeble shield against the lingering chill. You dress slowly, abandoning your usual routine for the simple comfort of bed, seeking to calm your mind. Eventually, you drift into sleep, the confusion in your heart, perhaps even greater than before.

*Slight Time Skip*

You finished up her class for the evening, your Textile Science class drained your mind. you run into Eren, Connie, Armin and Pieck in the courtyard chattin it up.

"Yo, Y/N!" Armin hollered, his grin wide as he motioned for her to come over. You gave a small nod, casually strolling over as they kept chattin'. It helped take your mind off things for a sec.

"So, y'all ready for tonight?" Armin asked, his eyes sparklin' with excitement. "Tonight?" you echoed, feeling a bit lost.

Armin leaned in closer, speakin' low like it was a secret. "The party, It's goin' down at my place. everybody's rolling through." You thought about if Ony was gonna be there since going Armin's parties was one of their go to things as a couple.

You shifted uncomfortably, tryna come up with an excuse to bail but before you could say anythin', Sasha and Mikasa slid through, bringin' a burst of energy to the scene. "Hey, y'all!" Sasha greeted; her smile infectious as she pulled you into a hug.

Mikasa gave a nod, her expression serious as she peeped Y/N with concern.

"Y/N, you gotta come through tonight," Pieck chimed in, her voice smooth and persuasive. "You never show up to the parties, and it's gonna be lit." Y/N hesitated, caught between the comfort of being alone and the fear of missing out on the squad's vibe.

Just then, Ony strolled past, casting a shadow over Y/N's mood. She felt a surge of anger bubbling up inside, memories of their messy situation flooding back.

Armin, clueless as ever, turned to Ony with a hopeful grin. "Yo, you coming tonight, Ony?"

Ony glanced at you for a sec before turning back to Armin, his face unreadable. But before he could answer, you spoke up with fire in your voice. "I ain't showing if he's gonna be there," you stated, pointing your finger at Ony with a fierce look.

The air got heavy; the tension thick enough to cut with a knife. Y/N's heart raced as she waited for Ony's response. But instead of coming back at you, Ony just nodded quietly, his eyes holding a hint of regret before he dipped out.

You caught the concerned glances of your friends. You knew your emotions were a bit confusing being torn between wanting to hear him out, missing him then not wanting to be around him. Even though almost much time had passed, her emotions still felt raw.

You looked around to your friend group who was gauging your reaction to seeing Ony. Each stare, felt like a trap a push to make a decision you weren't ready for.

"I can't do this," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you took a step back, your eyes darting between your friends and a mental escape route. Sasha's hand on your arm stopped you in your tracks, her grip firm yet gentle. "You can't run from this forever, Y/N, you're gonna have to address this or find the will to move on" she said softly, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding. You stared at Sasha's face trying to gauge her facial expression and reaction "I know, Sash I know." you whispered hoarsely, your voice cracking with emotion. "But I'm not ready to face him, not yet. I don't know if I ever will be."

With that said you turned and left them there, briskly walking back to catch an uber back to your apartment.

----------------------------While you left-----------------------------------

Eren stared at Armin, scoffing with annoyance "Bro, how you gonna forget they ain't together no more? Ony straight up did her dirty with Annie."

Armin sighed and took a step back. "I know but they're both my friends and I want them both to be happy and come out more. guess I messed up by asking them out around each other. It's just that we hardly get to chill with both of them around, you know...it's tough."

Eren shook his head, his frustration evident in his furrowed brow. "I get that, Armin, but you gotta realize it's not just about them being happy. Ony really hurt Y/N, man. And seeing him around just brings back all that pain."

Armin's shoulders slumped in defeat, his expression reflecting the weight of his guilt. "I know, Eren, I know," he muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I just... I don't know how to fix this mess."

Sasha, who had been listening quietly, spoke up with a sympathetic tone. "Maybe there's no quick fix, Armin. Sometimes all we can do is give them space and time to heal, you know?"

Connie nodded in agreement, his expression serious. "Yeah, sometimes the best thing we can do is just be there for them when they're ready to talk or when they need us."

Armin sighed; his gaze heavy with regret. "You're right," he admitted, a sense of resignation settling over him. "I just hope they both find their way through this, somehow."

Previous Next

[vivwritesfics]

Hello love your writing btw. I was wondering if you could write a one shot or blurb about the reader and Daniel Ricciardo (maybe if you're willing Carlos Sainz) just relaxing swaying in the kitchen while they cook dancing and laughing to Sway by Michael Buble while it's dark cold and rainy outside.

Dancing In The Dark - DR3

Have you ever been so in love that your entire lives are intertwined? Like, shared house, shared cooking, shared cleaning, shared playlists?

That's how in love Y/N L/N was with Daniel Ricciardo.

When he wasn't travelling the world, they did everything together.

They cooked together most every night, Y/N preparing vegetables or the meat or whatever went in the dinner while Danny took care of the rice or spaghetti or whatever they might have had in the oven.

They had their music playing as they cooked, their playlist coming out of the speaker system. Danny danced as he waited by the stove or the oven and Y/N shook her body gently as she chopped and prepared.

Taylor Swift was playing, a song that Danny had added to their playlist. Danny stepped away from the oven and walked over to the girlfriend. He took her hand, putting down her knife, and turned her around. Placing her arms around his neck, Daniel swayed from side to side.

With her head on his shoulder, Y/N looked up at him as he moved them. "Danny, I need to keep on with dinner," she said and pulled away from him.

But Danny didn't let her go. He pulled her back in, spun her around and let her go again.

This was a normal occurrence, especially when they were doing any kind of chores. Danny could afford for them to have a maid or a cleaner, but Y/N wouldn't let him. She loved doing chores, music on in the background as Danny cleaned at her side.

Careless Whisper came on the speaker. Danny dropped the feather duster and turned to his girlfriend. "Something in your eyes," he sang, shaking his hips. "Calls to mind a silver screen."

"And its all sad good-byes," Y/N replied. It was pointless trying to resist him. She wasn't dancing though, she was still cleaning the surfaces in the living room.

Danny walked over and put down the surface cleaner and cloth. "I'm never gonna dance again."

"Guilty feet have got no rhythm!" They shouted together.

Careless Whisper wasn't their song, not by any means. But they loved it, it was the perfect song to scream in the middle of their living room in the late evening when they were still cleaning (because Danny had made them stop so many times to dance).

Danny span her. He sent her around once, twice.

At the saxophone, Danny let go of her and shook his hips in time with it.

Date night.

Y/N loved date night. They'd go out to a restaurant or to see a movie or to an arcade or something. Date night always ended with them in the living room, a glass of wine in hand, candles lit and music playing as they sat on the couch.

Sway, the Michael Bublé version, came on over the speakers. As soon as Danny heard it he was up and pulling Y/N up with him. She went willingly, one hand in his and the other on her on his shoulder.

Daniel took the lead, moving them around the living room. He spun her around and pulled her back in. Danny's steps were quick, messy, almost impossible to keep up with. But Y/N managed it, she had done ever since the day they met.

At the chorus, Danny blindly stepped back, pulling Y/N with him. They went stumbling, over the back of the couch. They fell down in a fit of giggles, knocking their red wine over in the process. "Shit, Danny," she said through her giggle. "The rug!"

Their once cream rug was now ruined, a huge whine stain spread across the middle. "That's never coming out."

Daniel let out a laugh and kissed the top of her head. "We'll get a new one tomorrow," Daniel answered, wrapping his arms around her.

Daniel and Y/N loved dancing together. They did it throughout their relationship, right up until they got married. At their wedding, their first dance was to Careless Whisper. They knew their family and friends were judging them, but they didn't much care.

When sway came on, Y/N's friend gave them a knowing look.

They danced through the night, until the early hours of the morning. By the time they were off to their honeymoon, their feet were hurting and they were exhausted. But they were so, so happy.

[f14fun]

A Cowgirl's Stars, Stripes, and Speed (!black-!cowgirl-!singer x dr3) (C1)

synopsis: in which case y/n, a bold African American country singer, crosses paths with Daniel, a charming Australian Formula 1 driver, both tipsy and unwound by the night.

prose + smau (20.6K words) ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩z profile | masterlist ⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆

author's note: i desperately had to write a daniel ff, because a) the austin grand prix is nearing and b) i'm terribly sad about his sudden departure. daniel, we all love you so much and wish the best for you! remember to #fea (f' 'em all) <3

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

Austin, Texas had nothing on me.

The dingy little bar — well, to me it was dingy because it was the family bar — was dimly lit, with neon signs casting a faint, almost ghostly glow across the weathered wooden walls. The low hum of chatter mixed with the clink of glasses, and even though it was nearing midnight, the place had only gotten busier. Crowds swayed to the twang of a fiddle in the background, boots stomping across the sticky floor. Outside, the summer heat still clung to the air, making the inside feel close and hazy, like the walls were holding in the laughter and stories of the night.

I’d played more shows here than I could count, my boots leaving their mark on the same stage where my granddaddy used to strum his guitar. Most nights felt predictable, but this one felt different, like the air was charged with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

I wasn’t much for Formula 1 — Texas rodeos and horse racing were more my speed — but I knew every year when the race came through Austin, our little bar saw a wave of tourists eager for a taste of country. And tonight, as I leaned against the bar nursing my bourbon, the buzz of unfamiliar accents swirled around me, a reminder that the city had filled up with people from all over the world, looking for thrills in the dust and heat of Texas.

"Y/N, baby, why don’t you get up there and play a few songs?" my mom said, wiping her hands on a towel as she leaned over the bar. Her voice was soft, but that familiar nudge was behind it — the kind that never really left room for much argument.

I hesitated, swirling the last bit of bourbon in my glass. “I don’t know, Mama... it’s packed tonight,” I replied, glancing around at the sea of faces — mostly tourists, loud and unfamiliar. “Besides, they’re not here for me. Just here for a taste of Texas, right? A rodeo queen, not a country girl with a guitar.”

Mama raised an eyebrow, crossing her arms. “You’ve got more than a taste of Texas in you. Those folks would be lucky to hear what you can do. You know that.”

I sighed, feeling the weight of her words settle in. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to play — hell, I’d been singing since I could talk and playing guitar since I was old enough to hold one. But growing up Black in a part of Texas where faces like ours weren’t the norm? That always added a little extra pressure.

Even though our family had earned our place here, built up the bar and our name through years of hard work and music passed down through generations, it never really felt like the eyes watching me were just listening to the music. They were measuring us.

But over the years, we’d carved out a space for ourselves. This bar wasn’t just another honky-tonk; it was ours, The Dusty Rose, and people knew us for more than the color of our skin. Mama’s voice, my granddaddy’s songs, and the family’s grit had earned us some respect in this town. Enough that people came back, year after year, to hear us sing, drink our whiskey, and pretend for a while that we were all part of the same big Texas story.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that tonight, with so many new faces and voices in the crowd, I wasn’t sure I had the courage to step up. I glanced down at my guitar leaning against the wall, its strings worn and familiar, waiting for me like it always did.

Mama’s voice cut through my thoughts. “Y/N, you’ve got the talent and the heart. Don’t let anyone else tell you different. You’re gonna get up there and remind them why they keep coming back.”

I wanted to believe her, I really did. But I wasn’t sure if tonight was the night to take on the weight of all those eyes.

I took a deep breath, running my fingers along the worn edge of my glass before setting it down with a soft clink. “Alright, Mama,” I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. “Guess it’s time to remind these folks why The Dusty Rose has lasted this long.”

Mama smiled, that proud, knowing smile she always gave me. I stood up, the familiar click of my cowboy boots echoing on the wooden floor, a steady rhythm that matched my heartbeat. Without another word, I slung my guitar over my shoulder, the weight of it settling comfortably against my back, like an old friend. The crowd was a blur of faces as I walked toward the stage, my pulse steadying with every step.

As I stepped up, I saw Orville already seated behind his drum kit, twirling a stick between his fingers with that lazy confidence of his. His bright blonde hair stuck out in every direction, his face splashed with freckles that made him look like a mischievous kid, though he was older than me by a good ten years. He looked up, grinning wide. “Well, I’ll be damned, look who’s finally decided to grace us with her presence. You plannin’ on singin’ or just standin’ there lookin’ pretty, Y/N?” he teased, tapping his snare for effect.

“Could do both, Orville,” I shot back, my nerves melting a little under the familiar banter.

To the right of him, Clyde was leaning over the keys, his cowboy hat tipped low over his brow. With a name like Clyde and a deep Southern drawl that stretched out his words for days, he was about as country as they came. He looked up at me with a slow nod. “Ain’t no time like midnight for a little serenadin’, huh?” he drawled, cracking a toothy grin. “Folks gonna think you’re singin’ ‘em to bed.”

Then there was Gus, seated on the stool, strumming a lazy rhythm on the bass. He had a scruffy beard, worn jeans, and the kind of build that said he spent just as much time on a ranch as he did on stage. Gus tilted his head and gave me a half-smile. “Late night’s when the magic happens, darlin’. ‘Sides, these tourists don’t know country music 'til they hear it this time of night.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. The boys had been with me long enough to know my patterns, and teasing me for wanting to sing so late was their way of easing my nerves. We’d known each other since grade school — back when Orville was the kid who drummed on lunch tables, Clyde would belt out country tunes during recess, and Gus would pluck at strings made of rubber bands, pretending he had a bass in his hands. Now that we were twenty-two, somehow, we still hadn’t split up. Through all the ups and downs, we stuck together, always finding our way back to this stage.

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, strumming a few soft chords to tune my guitar, “you all just wait. We’re about to remind this bar why they keep coming back.”

Orville gave his drums a little roll, Clyde’s fingers hovered over the keys, and Gus plucked the bass with a steady beat, all of them waiting on me to start. It was like second nature, this rhythm we shared, a connection built over years of shared songs and late-night jams.

I took one more deep breath, feeling the energy of the room shift toward the stage, my nerves steadying under the soft glow of the spotlight. Time to show them what The Dusty Rose was really about — and remind myself why we never gave up on this.

I stomped my boots on the worn wooden floor, the solid thud cutting through the clamor of the bar. A few heads turned first, followed by more, until the low murmur of voices quieted down after a couple of cheerful whistles and claps from the regulars.

I stepped up to the mic, adjusting the strap of my guitar on my shoulder. “Hey y’all,” I started, my voice carrying over the room. “For those who don’t know me, I’m Y/N. I’m a small singer-songwriter, born and raised right here in Austin.”

Before I could say another word, Gus chuckled from his spot behind me. “Small, my ass. She’s an enigma, and she’s selling herself short, y’all!”

The room rumbled with a few laughs, and I felt the heat rush to my cheeks as I blushed, turning around to swat him gently on the shoulder. “Gus, you’re lucky I don’t throw my boot at you,” I teased, shaking my head before turning back to the crowd.

“Alright, alright, don’t listen to him,” I said with a smile. “I wanted to play a song tonight that’s a little personal. One I wrote not too long ago... when I found my boyfriend — who, funny enough, was also in the band — cheating on me with my best friend, who used to sing backup vocals.”

A few sympathetic murmurs rose from the crowd, and I could see people shift in their seats, intrigued. “Yeah, it was a mess,” I continued, smiling despite the sting of the memory. “Johnny and Carrie — yeah, those are their real names, y’all — are long gone now. They didn’t just break my heart, they broke the band up too.”

I glanced at Orville, Clyde, and Gus, the ones who’d stuck around. We’d been through hell and back, but we never let anyone tear us down. “But we bounced back. And so did I,” I added with a grin. “This song’s about all that, and how you pick yourself up when the people you trust let you down.”

The room was still, eyes fixed on me as I raised my guitar, fingers poised over the strings. “So, here’s one I like to call Blue.” I stomped my boots once more, giving the boys the cue to kick in. The first slow, mournful chords filled the air, and as I started to sing, the bar held its breath, waiting for the heartache in my voice to tell the rest of the story.

I took a deep breath and let the first notes roll off my tongue, the familiar melody filling the room as my fingers danced across the strings.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

My voice lingered in the air, soft yet steady, as the boys followed in perfect harmony. The crowd had settled into the mood, quiet and still, as if they, too, were feeling the heartache threaded through the lyrics.

"Tears fill my eyes 'til I can't see Three o'clock in the mornin' Here am I, sittin' all alone..."

As I poured myself into the song, my gaze drifted across the room, and that’s when I spotted him. A ruggedly handsome man leaning against the far corner of the bar, his stubble-covered jaw catching the dim light just right, giving him an air of mystery. He had a full head of curls peeking out from under a cowboy hat that didn’t quite fit the way a Texan’s would. He might have been trying to blend in, but it was obvious he wasn’t from around here.

The way he carried himself — that casual yet calculated way of sitting, like he was at ease but somehow apart from it all — made me wonder who the hell he was. Something about him tugged at my attention, even as I sang the words that had been pulling at my heart for months.

"Now that it's over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

My fingers faltered for the briefest second, but I recovered quickly, shaking off the distraction and forcing myself back into the song. Whoever he was, I wasn’t about to let some handsome stranger throw me off my game. Not tonight.

I kept going, but the thought of him lingered at the back of my mind, the heat of his presence warming the room just a little more than it had been before.

The gentle rhythm of Gus’s bass hummed through the room, a steady heartbeat that matched the soulful sway of the song. Each note he plucked seemed to cradle the sadness in my voice, grounding it in something deeper, something raw. Clyde’s fingers danced over the keys, soft and mournful, adding a kind of sweetness to the pain, like the last lingering memory of something you loved but had to let go. Orville’s light taps on the drums gave the song its slow, steady pulse, holding everything together in a rhythm that felt like the ticking of time, dragging me back through memories I’d rather forget.

"Blue, oh, so lonesome for you Why can't you be blue over me..."

The melody wrapped itself around the room, and I could feel the audience sinking into the sadness with me, the song casting a spell over the bar. I was in the zone, letting the music take over, but that rugged stranger in the corner was like a stubborn note I couldn’t shake. His presence tugged at me, even with the sweet sorrow of the keys flowing through the air. He wasn’t watching me like the others; he was studying me, eyes dark under the brim of that cowboy hat that didn’t quite belong.

As my voice rose for the next line, I couldn’t help but glance his way again. His stubbled jaw was clenched like he was thinking hard about something, but there was a glint of something else — maybe curiosity — in his eyes. It unnerved me and fascinated me all at once, the way he didn’t quite fit in, even though he was trying to. And those curls, barely contained by the hat, told me he wasn’t used to this kind of scene. Not here, not in Texas. Not in my bar.

"Now that it’s over I realize Those weak words you whispered Were nothing but lies..."

The bass thudded low, pulling me back into the music. Gus knew just when to make it heavy, the vibrations running through my chest like the ache of an old wound. The keys lifted the sorrow just enough to make it bearable, Clyde’s touch delicate but deliberate. Together, we made the heartache sound beautiful.

But no matter how much I tried to drown myself in the song, I kept catching glimpses of him. The stranger, leaning back casually, his body language saying he was here for the ride, but his eyes telling me there was more to him than that easy posture.

The lyrics fell from my lips, but my mind kept wandering to the question burning in the back of my head: Who was he?

As the final chords of the song rang out, the bar was quiet for a moment, letting the last notes settle before a soft wave of applause rippled through the crowd. I smiled, feeling a strange mix of relief and adrenaline, my heart still thudding in my chest. The boys gave me a few approving nods — Clyde even tipped his hat — and I turned back to the mic, clearing my throat.

“Well, uh, that was a little somethin’ I wrote not too long ago,” I said, feeling the warmth of the stage lights on my face. “If y’all liked it — or if you’re just in the mood to be sad for a bit — it’s out on Spotify, Apple Music, SoundCloud, or whatever platform folks are using these days,” I added with a grin. “I promise, I’ve got some happier stuff too. Probably should’ve started the night off with one of those, huh?”

A few chuckles broke out from the crowd, but one laugh stood out — low and warm, rolling through the room like a wave that hit me square in the chest. It wasn’t like the others. It had weight, something that settled in my stomach and made it twist in a way I wasn’t used to. Almost instinctively, I looked toward the sound, and there he was — the stranger in the corner. His cowboy hat was still tipped low, hiding just enough of his face to make him even more intriguing, but it was the way his eyes locked on mine that made me freeze.

His grin was lazy, like he had all the time in the world, and there was something about the ease of it that made my heart skip a beat. In the soft glow of the bar, it felt like the entire place faded into the background. For a split second, there was nothing but me and him, his gaze holding mine with an intensity I hadn’t expected. It wasn’t just that he was watching me; it was like he saw me, past the stage, past the song, and right into that vulnerable place I tried so hard to guard.

And then, just like that, I became a complete mess. Heat rushed to my face, my skin prickling under the spotlight, and I felt my grip on my guitar falter. “Uh, yeah… so, anyway... that’s me,” I stammered, my voice coming out shaky, the words tumbling over each other as I tried to make a coherent sentence. I could feel the blush creeping up my neck, no matter how hard I willed it to stop, and I quickly looked away, trying to regain some semblance of composure.

But it was too late. The boys behind me noticed — of course they did. I could practically feel Gus grinning at my awkwardness, and Clyde was trying to suppress a chuckle. Orville tapped out a light rhythm on the edge of his drum, clearly enjoying my flustered state. I fumbled with the strap of my guitar, my hands suddenly too shaky to be of any use, my mind still stuck on the way that stranger had looked at me.

I’d performed hundreds of times, faced crowds far bigger than this one, but something about that single moment — that one look from him — had knocked me off balance. My pulse was still racing, and the heat in my cheeks refused to fade. He was just a man, I reminded myself, a guy sitting in the corner of a bar. But it didn’t feel that simple. It felt like he’d peeled back a layer of me in that one glance, leaving me bare under his eyes.

And as I fumbled my way off the stage, trying to get my act together, one thought kept running through my mind: Who the hell is this guy, and why is he making me feel like this?

I cleared my throat and leaned back into the mic with a grin, letting go of the last song’s weight. “Alright, y’all,” I started, flashing a playful smile, “that last one was for all the folks who like to sit and think about their exes at 2 AM — you know who you are,” I added, getting a few chuckles from the crowd.

“But this next one? It’s a little different. We’re gonna turn things up a notch. It’s got a bit of rock in it, so feel free to sing, cry, scream, yell—whatever your heart needs. And if you wanna dance, well, don’t hold back. Just don’t blame me if you’re out of breath by the end!”

The crowd laughed, and I winked. “This one’s called Indifferent, but don’t let the name fool you—it’s anything but.”

I strummed the first few chords, letting the energy shift in the room, and the boys picked up right behind me, Orville giving the drums a little more punch, Clyde leaning into the keys with a rock edge, and Gus keeping the rhythm solid with his bass. I was about to really get into the groove when, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him.

The stranger — cowboy hat and all — stood up from his seat, shaking his curls free as he made his way toward a group of people who had started to sway with the beat. And then he started dancing. And I mean really dancing, not just swaying but full-on, carefree moves, like he didn’t give a damn who was watching.

I couldn’t help it — a laugh bubbled up from my chest, and I almost missed a chord as I watched him. He was good, I had to give him that, but there was something about the way he moved that told me he was trying to get my attention. The way he’d glance over every so often, like he wanted to see if I was watching — and yeah, I was watching.

The more he danced, the more I giggled, barely keeping my voice steady as I kept singing. His cowboy hat bobbed up and down as he spun around, clapping along with the beat, and I could tell he was putting on a show, just for me. My eyes met his again, and he shot me a grin, all cocky and playful, making my heart skip a beat.

I shook my head, trying to focus on the song, but the sight of him — carefree, handsome, and definitely showing off — made it hard to keep my cool. My voice caught just a little as I sang the next line, and I could feel my face heating up again, but this time, I was more amused than flustered.

Oh, he’s trying to impress me, I thought with a smirk. And I couldn’t lie, it was kinda working.

I leaned into the mic, my voice steady as I sang the next line, feeling the shift in energy from the crowd.

"I see your truck and I don't give a—"

Before I could even finish, the crowd roared in unison, screaming out the word I didn’t have to sing. “FUCK!” Their voices echoed off the walls, a mix of laughter and rebellion, and I grinned wide.

But the loudest voice? That came from him.

“FUCK!” he yelled, right along with the crowd, his grin even wider now as he danced like no one was watching — except everyone was. His cowboy hat tipped back as he threw his arms up, and I swear, he looked like he was having the time of his life.

I couldn’t help it — I laughed, nearly missing the next line as I watched him throw himself into the moment. My cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so hard, but I kept going, feeding off the energy around me.

"And it don't make my heart skip a beat," I sang, almost giggling through the words, but his eyes were on me again, catching mine as he clapped along with the beat. His dancing had turned into full-on jumping now, and I could see a few others joining in, all feeding off his wild, carefree energy. He was having a blast, and even though I was up on stage, I felt like I was right there with him, swept up in the fun.

I saw him glance at me again, this time with a playful wink, like he knew exactly what he was doing. My heart did that weird little flip again, and I almost tripped over the next verse, the heat creeping up my face once more.

He’s definitely showing off now, I thought, trying to keep my focus on the music. But I couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped as I strummed through the chorus. His dance moves might’ve been reckless, but they were working. The crowd was loving him, and so, apparently, was I.

I sang the next line, my voice steady but my heart racing a little faster as his grin widened, his eyes locked on mine. I wasn’t sure what got into me, maybe it was the way he looked so carefree, so unbothered by the world around him, or maybe it was just the thrill of the moment — but before I could stop myself, I tilted my head toward the stage, beckoning him with a playful nod.

He raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised, but that grin of his never wavered. The crowd cheered him on as he took a few exaggerated, swaggering steps toward the stage, his cowboy hat tipped back and curls bouncing with every step. I laughed, my own confidence rising, and held out my hand as he made his way up.

He took it, and in an instant, we were standing side by side, the crowd going wild as we started to sway together in time with the music. His hand found its way to the small of my back, and I could feel the warmth of it even through my shirt.

The moment felt... electric.

We kept swaying, his towering frame almost comical next to mine, but somehow it worked. His eyes never left mine, and for a split second, it felt like we were the only two people in the room. The music kept going, but everything else seemed to blur into the background. I could see the playful glint in his eyes, the way he seemed to be daring me to look away — but I didn’t.

He leaned down just a bit, close enough that I could feel the warmth of his breath as he spoke, his voice low and teasing. “Not bad for a country girl,” he said with a wink.

I giggled, blushing like a schoolgirl as I tried to keep my cool. “Not bad for a guy who’s clearly not from around here,” I shot back, but my voice wavered just a little, betraying how much his presence was throwing me off.

We kept swaying, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm, the lights catching the gleam in his eyes as we held each other's gaze. He towered over me, but I didn’t feel small — not with him, not in this moment. It felt like the rest of the world had faded away, and all that was left was the two of us, swaying together under the soft glow of the stage lights.

I took a deep breath, trying to refocus as the music carried me back into the song, but it wasn’t easy. His presence behind me was impossible to ignore, like he was right there, even though we weren’t touching anymore. My skin tingled with awareness, and I could feel the heat rising to my neck, warming me from the inside out. We were both tipsy, the drinks and the night making everything feel a little looser, a little more charged. But the way he was standing so close—his warmth practically wrapping around me—made it harder to concentrate.

"I'm indifferent, I'm just livin' When your mama calls, I'm reminded you exist And I wish that she didn't 'Cause all my 'give-a-damns', they've already been given..."

My voice stayed steady, but I could feel my heart thudding faster with every word. The crowd was clapping along, some of them singing the lyrics back to me, but all I could think about was him. I knew he was still behind me, standing tall, his presence so strong I could almost feel it on my skin.

As I sang, my breath caught just a little when I felt him shift closer, the slightest brush of his arm near my shoulder. It was nothing, really, just a subtle movement, but it sent a rush of heat up the back of my neck, making my pulse race. My voice wavered for just a second, and I bit my lip, hoping no one noticed how distracted I was.

But I knew he did. I could feel his gaze on me, even though I couldn’t see him.

I played a few more songs, each one building on the last, the energy in the room rising with every note. The crowd was alive now, swaying, clapping, and singing along. I felt a rush of adrenaline pumping through me, the nerves from earlier completely gone, replaced by this wild confidence I hadn’t felt in a long time. The music was in my veins, lifting me up, and for the first time all night, I felt completely at ease on stage.

But even with the thrill of the crowd, my thoughts kept drifting back to him. I could feel his presence in the room, like a constant hum just below the surface, and every time I caught a glimpse of his curls or that easy grin from across the bar, my pulse quickened.

As the final chord of my last song rang out, I stepped away from the mic, feeling a surge of applause wash over me. I grinned, tipping my hat to the crowd, but my eyes were searching for him. And then, there he was, standing near the bar, his gaze locked on mine. The cheers of the crowd faded into the background, everything else becoming a blur as I zeroed in on him.

Before I could even believe it, my feet started moving. It was like my body had a mind of its own, dragging me toward him before my brain could even catch up. Each step felt like I was crossing some invisible line, the adrenaline still coursing through me, making me feel bold, invincible.

I wasn’t thinking about anything else but the way his eyes held mine, steady and sure, as I made my way across the room. It was like gravity was pulling me toward him, and I wasn’t about to fight it. Before I knew it, I was standing right in front of him, close enough to catch the faint scent of cologne and the hint of whiskey on his breath.

My heart pounded in my chest, and I could feel the heat rising to my face again, but I wasn’t about to turn back. Not now. He gave me that same lazy grin, tipping his hat just slightly as his eyes twinkled with amusement, like he knew exactly what I was feeling.

I opened my mouth to say something — anything — but the words got stuck somewhere between my head and my heart. All I knew was that I wasn’t leaving this bar without knowing who the hell this guy was.

He looked down at me, that lazy grin spreading wider as he tipped his hat back just a bit, giving me a full view of those mischievous eyes. “Well, if I knew your singing was that good, I would’ve pretended to break my heart a long time ago,” he said, his voice low and teasing, with just a hint of an accent that wasn’t from around here.

I blinked, caught completely off guard, and then burst into a laugh I hadn’t expected. “You’re gonna have to try a lot harder than that to get a song out of me,” I shot back, still feeling the heat in my cheeks but trying to keep my cool.

He chuckled, leaning in just a little, close enough that I could feel the warmth coming off him. “Lucky for you, I’m not lookin’ to break any hearts tonight — just thought I’d make an impression.”

My heart skipped a beat as our eyes met again, and before I could help it, I smiled. “I’d say you’re doing a pretty good job of that,” I muttered, trying not to trip over my own words.

He straightened up, giving me a playful wink. “Well, I aim to please, darlin’.”

I raised an eyebrow, feeling bolder than I had all night, and shot him a smirk. “You look like you love me,” I teased, the words slipping out with more confidence than I thought I had. The line from that song was on the tip of my tongue, and it felt just right for the moment.

His grin widened, and for a split second, he looked like I’d caught him off guard. But then he leaned in just a little, his voice low and smooth. “Well, maybe I do,” he said, the teasing tone still there but with just enough seriousness to make my heart skip.

I swallowed hard, my pulse racing as I met his gaze, my smirk fading into something softer. “Careful,” I replied, my voice quieter now, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He chuckled, that lazy grin still in place. “Maybe I like the sound of that.”

I tilted my head, narrowing my eyes at him with a playful smirk. “I saw you lookin’ me up and down from across the room,” I teased, raising an eyebrow. “You weren’t exactly being subtle.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he leaned a little closer, clearly enjoying the banter. “Subtle’s never been my strong suit,” he shot back, his voice low and smooth. “But hey, can you blame me? You were up there making it pretty hard not to look.”

I bit my lip, fighting back a laugh as I shook my head. “You got a lot of nerve saying that out loud, you know.”

He shrugged, the grin never leaving his face. “Just calling it like I see it. You’re the one who beckoned me up here, remember?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to keep my composure, but I could feel the heat in my cheeks again. “Yeah, well, I guess I’m not subtle either.”

He tilted his head, giving me that same cocky grin. “No complaints here, darlin’.”

I laughed, shaking my head at his audacity. “Alright, mystery man, you’ve been charming me for the last few minutes, but you haven’t even told me your name yet.”

He leaned back slightly, tipping his hat with a playful glint in his eyes. “Name’s Daniel,” he said, his accent wrapping around the words just right. “And you, miss, have definitely made this night a lot more interesting.”

“Well, Daniel,” I replied, giving him a once-over just like he had done to me earlier, “I think the feeling’s mutual.”

I raised an eyebrow, still grinning as I asked, “So, where’s that accent of yours from? I know it ain’t local.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm, before answering, “Perth. Australia.”

I blinked, genuinely surprised. “Australia, huh? Never been there before.” I paused, letting the words hang in the air for a moment. “Heard it’s nice, though. Beaches and all that.”

Daniel nodded, his grin widening a bit. “Yeah, we’ve got the beaches. But it’s more than just that. You should visit sometime, I’d make a pretty good tour guide.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Oh, I bet you would,” I said, trying to imagine what it would be like to visit a place so far from Texas. “Sounds like a whole world away from here.”

“It is,” he admitted, his eyes locking on mine again. “But I reckon you’d fit in just fine.”

I tilted my head, feeling a smirk pull at the corner of my lips. “Oh, you think so? I’m not exactly the ‘surf and sand’ kind of girl. I’m more boots and dirt roads.”

Daniel chuckled, his gaze still holding mine, like he was seeing straight through the sass and into something deeper. “I dunno, I think you could rock the Aussie lifestyle. Maybe even swap those boots for some thongs,” he teased, leaning in just enough to close the space between us a little more.

I blinked, the word catching me off guard, and then burst into laughter. “What the fuck are thongs?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. “You Aussies have some weird ideas about footwear.”

Daniel paused for a second, then laughed, realizing his mistake. “Oh, right... over here, thongs are something else entirely,” he said, his grin turning a little mischievous. “In Australia, they’re just flip-flops. But I like where your mind went.”

I felt my face flush, a mix of the whiskey and the sudden innuendo hitting me all at once. “Well, maybe you should clarify next time,” I shot back, trying to sound confident despite the warmth creeping up my neck. “I was starting to think you had some very bold ideas for this first conversation.”

He smirked, leaning in just a little closer. “Trust me, if I wanted to make a bold suggestion, I wouldn’t be talking about footwear.” His voice dropped low, teasing, as he let the words hang between us.

My heart skipped a beat, and I fought the urge to stammer. “Well, good to know,” I managed to reply, my voice quieter now, my gaze locked on his. “But for the record, boots are staying. Thongs or no thongs.”

He chuckled, the laughter low and warm, and I could feel the space between us shrink even more. “Noted,” he said, his eyes twinkling with that same playful spark. “But if you ever change your mind, I’ll be here to help you pick the right pair.”

I smirked, shaking my head, but before I could respond, he tilted his head, still grinning like he had a whole world of charm left to unleash.

“Well, if I can make it out here to a bar in Texas, maybe one day you could try Australia. I’d personally make sure it’s worth your while.”

I raised an eyebrow, amused by his confidence. “Big promises, Daniel from Perth. You must think pretty highly of your tour guide skills.”

He shrugged, a playful glint still in his eyes. “Just sayin’, you might find there’s more to life than boots and honky-tonks. Besides,” he added, his voice lowering slightly, “I’d make sure you’d never forget it.”

My heart skipped a beat, his words sending a rush of warmth through me. I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but I wasn’t about to back down. “Careful now,” I replied, my voice soft but steady, “I’m not so easily impressed.”

Daniel grinned, tipping his hat slightly as he leaned back. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to work a little harder then, won’t I?”

I grinned at him, crossing my arms as I leaned against the bar. “You’ve got a lot of confidence, Daniel from Perth. But I’ve been around enough smooth talkers to know when someone’s bluffing.”

He raised an eyebrow, leaning in just enough to keep the playful tension in the air. “Bluffing? I don’t bluff. Just telling it like it is.” He motioned to the bartender. “Let me prove it to you. First round’s on me.”

I laughed, shaking my head but not protesting as the bartender slid two drinks our way. “Fine, I’ll bite,” I said, taking the glass. “But I’ll have you know, Texans can hold their liquor, and I’m not easy to out-drink.”

Daniel’s grin only widened. “Oh, I’ve got my work cut out for me, then. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

We clinked our glasses together, and before I knew it, the drinks were flowing just as easily as the conversation. Time seemed to blur, the crowd around us fading into the background as we swapped stories and traded teasing remarks. My guitar, once my only focus of the night, now sat forgotten against a pole near the bar, its case propped up and covered with old stickers and layers of chipped paint from the years of wear. But I didn’t care.

“Okay, I have to ask,” I said, my words slightly slurred from the whiskey but still full of curiosity. “How does a guy from Australia end up here, of all places? Texas isn’t exactly next door.”

He took a long sip of his drink, his eyes never leaving mine. “Racing,” he replied simply, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “I travel a lot for it. Came for the Austin Grand Prix. Thought I’d stop by a local bar, get a feel for the place. Lucky me, huh?”

I felt the warmth from the drinks spreading through me, loosening me up even more. “Racing, huh? So, what, you’re like a big-time driver?” I teased, nudging him with my elbow.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Something like that. But tonight, I’m just a guy trying to keep up with a Texas girl who’s got a pretty good whiskey tolerance.”

I grinned, feeling the heat in my cheeks and not just from the alcohol. “Well, you’re doing alright so far. But don’t think a few drinks and a smile are gonna get you off the hook that easy.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” Daniel said, his voice low and smooth, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes held mine for a moment longer than I expected, and I could feel my heart race a little faster.

We laughed together, leaning in closer, drinks in hand, the weight of the night slipping away. The bar around us blurred into the background, as if it didn’t matter anymore — just the two of us, the warmth of his touch, the easy rhythm of our conversation, as natural as the music I’d been playing hours ago. Our hands brushed more often, his arm finding its way around my shoulder, his fingers trailing down my back in moments that felt casual but were charged with something more.

Before I knew it, we were touching more than talking — my hand resting on his arm, his thumb grazing the small of my back. The buzz of the alcohol had me feeling light, and every time his fingertips lingered a little longer, a blush crept up my neck. I could feel the heat of his breath as he leaned closer to whisper something that had us both giggling again.

The next thing I knew, we were stumbling out of the bar, calling an Uber, the cool night air doing nothing to shake the warmth between us. The ride was a blur of drunken laughter, our legs pressing against each other as his arm wrapped snugly around my waist. The city lights flew by in a haze, but all I could focus on was the way his touch made my heart race. His grip on me tightened, pulling me closer, and I was too drunk and too tipsy to even pretend not to blush.

Then, suddenly, we were back at his hotel room. The door clicked shut behind us, and we both broke into a fit of giggles, stumbling inside like we were sneaking in after curfew. His arm never left my waist, and I couldn’t stop the butterflies in my stomach as he pulled me against him, the warmth of his body sending a shiver down my spine.

“Shhh,” I whispered between giggles, trying to stifle the sound, but it was impossible when he looked at me with that boyish grin, like he was having the time of his life.

“Quiet was never my strong suit,” he whispered back, his lips brushing against my ear as he spoke, sending another wave of heat through me. I blushed even harder, barely able to keep my composure as he pressed his forehead against mine, his hand resting on my hip like he never wanted to let go.

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, every inch of me aware of his body so close, his touch gentle but firm, like he was holding back just enough. His breath was warm against my skin, his fingers tracing lazy patterns along my side, and the more he touched me, the more I felt my resolve slipping.

I let out a soft, nervous laugh, trying to shake off the tension building between us, but it only made him grin wider. “You’re really bad at this whole ‘quiet’ thing,” I teased, my voice barely above a whisper as my hand slid up to rest against his chest. I could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat under my palm, and the closeness of it all made my own pulse race.

He chuckled softly, his hand tightening just slightly on my hip. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to stay quiet when I’m this close to you,” he murmured, his voice low and full of something deeper than just the alcohol. His eyes locked onto mine, and for a moment, everything else fell away. It was just us, standing there, barely holding it together in the haze of the night.

Before I could think about it, I found myself leaning in, my breath catching as his lips brushed against mine, soft and teasing. It wasn’t a full kiss — just the faintest touch — but it sent a jolt through me that made my knees weak. I blushed again, harder this time, but I didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Instead, he smiled against my lips, his hand sliding up from my hip to gently cup my face, his thumb brushing across my cheek. “You’re blushing again,” he whispered, and I could hear the teasing note in his voice.

“Shut up,” I mumbled, but there was no hiding the heat in my cheeks or the way I was leaning into him, my body betraying how much I wanted to be close.

We started kissing, and the night blurred together, in a mess of liquor, sticky kisses, and well what do you know, my guitar lay upright against a chair, watching the entire thing.

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I didn’t know where the fuck I was.

I blinked, staring up at a ceiling that definitely wasn’t mine, with sheets that smelled way too expensive for my budget. My head was pounding like I’d been hit by a freight train, and as I tried to roll over, something — no, someone — stopped me.

That’s when I felt it.

An arm. A very muscular arm. Draped over me like we were starring in a rom-com, except I definitely didn’t remember signing up for this role.

I squinted around the room, trying to piece together the disaster that was my life. My shirt was flung haphazardly across a chair, my boots were tipped over near the door, and... was that his cowboy hat sitting on the dresser? Oh god.

Oh god, no.

And then it all came rushing back — the whiskey, the dancing, the flirting, the thongs conversation. And then, as if on cue, the faint sound of an alarm started buzzing on his phone, because apparently this guy sets alarms like a responsible adult after a night of drunken debauchery.

“Well, shit,” I muttered under my breath.

I lay there, trying to pretend I was still asleep, or dead, or invisible—any of which would be preferable to dealing with the fact that I had absolutely no idea what to do next. Daniel’s arm was still heavy around my waist, his slow, steady breathing telling me he hadn’t woken up yet.

Okay, Y/N, just stay calm. Maybe he won’t even remember… Or maybe you can just ninja your way out of this without waking him up.

I carefully, carefully shifted my leg, inching toward freedom, but the moment I tried to move, Daniel stirred. His arm tightened around me slightly, and I froze, heart pounding in my chest like it was trying to break free and escape the situation without me.

Please don’t wake up. Please just keep dreaming about kangaroos or whatever it is Australians dream about...

But then I felt him shift again. This time, he let out a low, sleepy groan. Oh god. He was waking up. I could feel the warmth of his breath against the back of my neck, and my entire body went stiff, like maybe if I played dead, he’d just go back to sleep.

But nope.

I heard him take a deep breath, and then his groggy voice cut through the awkward silence. “Morning, darlin’.”

Shit.

His voice was raspy, deep, and far too casual for someone who had a front-row seat to my current state of oh-my-god-what-have-I-done. I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the ground to just swallow me whole, but apparently, the universe didn’t grant those kinds of wishes.

I cleared my throat, still trying to stay as still as possible, like maybe if I didn’t move or respond, this entire moment would cease to exist. “Uh… morning,” I finally muttered, my voice betraying me with a nervous crack.

I could feel him shift behind me, and then — to my absolute horror — he pulled me in closer, his arm still firmly wrapped around my waist. Great. Now I’m spooning a guy I barely know, and I don’t even have a shirt on. What a stellar life choice, Y/N.

“So… how’re you feelin’?” he asked, his voice low and way too smooth for a guy who probably didn’t have a hangover.

How am I feeling? Like I’ve just woken up in a rom-com, except the comedy is my life falling apart, I thought, but instead, I just blurted, “Fine. Totally fine.”

My face was heating up again. I was like a human tomato at this point. I could feel him smiling behind me, like he was enjoying the fact that I was internally combusting.

“You don’t sound fine,” he teased, his voice dipping into that playful tone that I was beginning to realize was very dangerous for me.

I finally turned my head just enough to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. He had that messy bedhead look going on — the kind that shouldn’t be attractive but somehow was, and that damn lazy grin hadn’t left his face.

“Listen,” I said, trying to inject some semblance of control into my voice, “we’re just gonna pretend like none of this happened, okay?”

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, sending a shiver down my spine. “You mean the part where you dragged me back to my room, or the part where you kept giggling every time I tried to be quiet?”

My eyes widened. “I did not drag you back here!”

“Yeah, I think the Uber driver might disagree with that,” he replied, his grin widening.

I groaned, pulling the blanket over my head. “I cannot believe this is happening.”

“You and me both, darlin’,” he said, chuckling again as he gave my waist a playful squeeze. “But I gotta say, I’m not exactly complaining’.”

I let out a nervous laugh from under the blanket, but inside, I was mortified. I wasn’t the type to have one-night stands—like, ever. The last time I had one was three years ago, before Johnny and I started dating. And even then, I’d sworn it off because of how awkward and weird the whole thing felt afterward.

And the last time I’d had sex? Six months ago. Six. I wasn’t even sure how I managed last night, let alone with someone as confident and charming as Daniel. I didn’t do this. I wasn’t that girl who woke up in a stranger’s bed with her shirt somewhere across the room and no memory of how she got there.

I peeked out from under the blanket, feeling my face burning hotter by the second. “I just… I don’t do this. Like, ever.”

Daniel propped himself up on one elbow, still grinning like this was the most entertaining morning he’d had in a while. “Really?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed like a pro last night.”

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh my god, don’t say that,” I groaned, burying my face back into the pillow. “This is so embarrassing.”

He laughed, his voice softening just a little. “Hey, no need to be embarrassed. We were both tipsy, had a good time, and now we’re just... waking up. Happens to the best of us.”

I peeked out from the pillow again, trying to gauge if he was just messing with me or being sincere. But the easygoing look on his face hadn’t changed. He didn’t seem fazed at all, while I was over here spiraling.

I let out a slow breath, trying to calm the chaotic thoughts running through my head. Okay, maybe I could play it cool too—pretend like I wasn’t freaking out. But as I shifted under the blanket, trying to figure out how to extract myself from this mess, I felt a sudden, horrifying realization.

No bra.

I stiffened, my eyes darting around the room, desperately trying to remember where the hell it went. My shirt was across the room, but no sign of the bra. Oh god.

I glanced at Daniel, who was watching me with that amused grin still plastered on his face. He noticed the moment I realized it—of course he did. His grin widened, and before I could even attempt to form a coherent excuse, he raised an eyebrow and deadpanned, “Looking for something, darlin’? Because I’m not sure it’s gonna walk back over here on its own.”

My face turned beet red. “I—uh—this is just…” I stammered, covering myself with the blanket more securely, like that would magically undo everything.

He let out a chuckle, clearly enjoying every second of my mortification. “Don’t worry, your shirt’s over there, and I think your bra… well, it might’ve decided to take an extended vacation,” he teased, pointing toward the floor, where it lay crumpled in the corner like some sort of defeated symbol of my night.

I buried my face in my hands, laughing despite myself. “This is so not how I thought my night would end,” I mumbled through my fingers.

Daniel leaned in, still grinning like the cat who got the cream. “If it helps, I think you handled yourself pretty damn well for someone who doesn’t ‘do this,’” he teased, his voice full of playful charm.

I groaned, unable to stop the embarrassed laughter bubbling out of me. “Oh my god, stop,” I muttered, half laughing, half dying inside. But there was something about his laid-back attitude, the way he wasn’t making this feel weird or awkward, that made me feel just a little better.

At least one of us was good at handling this kind of thing.

I couldn’t stop laughing now, even though every cell in my body wanted to melt into the mattress and disappear. But Daniel wasn’t letting up, his teasing coming in waves.

“You know,” he said with a grin, “I’ve heard of people losing their dignity after a night like this, but you managed to misplace your bra too. That’s impressive.”

I rolled my eyes, still hiding my face in my hands. “Oh, ha ha, very funny. Maybe I’ll just stay under this blanket forever.”

He chuckled again, sitting up slightly and stretching, looking way too comfortable considering the situation. “Can’t say I blame you. This bed is pretty damn nice. But I’m starting to think you’re just stalling because you don’t want to leave me.”

I shot him a glare, trying to smother the blush on my cheeks. “I’m not stalling. I’m just… regrouping.”

“Right,” he nodded sagely. “Regrouping. Take all the time you need, darlin’. I’ll just be over here, admiring your tactical approach to gathering your scattered clothing.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, finally throwing the blanket off and clumsily scrambling out of bed. My hair was a mess, and I was pretty sure I looked like I’d just survived a tornado, but I was determined to reclaim some shred of dignity. As I stumbled over to where my shirt lay crumpled across the chair, Daniel’s voice piped up again.

“Wow,” he said, a little quieter this time, and I turned to see him watching me with an entirely different look—more serious, though still with that glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “I gotta say, you’re even more beautiful in the morning.”

I paused, my hand halfway to my shirt, and felt my heart do a little flip. “Really?” I asked, trying not to sound too flustered as I glanced at him.

He nodded, that easy smile still on his face but softer now. “Yeah. Really.”

I stared at him for a second, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks again but in a different way this time. There was something about the way he said it, so casual and genuine, that made me stop caring so much about the ridiculousness of the situation.

“Well,” I said, finally grabbing my shirt and pulling it over my head, “you’re not too bad yourself… for someone who’s spent the night making terrible jokes at my expense.”

Daniel laughed, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. “I can’t help it. You make it way too easy.”

I shook my head, still smiling, as I gathered the rest of my things. “Yeah, yeah. Keep talking. I’ll be sure to remember all of this next time I decide to ‘misplace’ my bra.”

Daniel grinned, watching as I gathered up the last of my things, still laughing at the absurdity of it all. “Well, if you ever need help finding it again,” he said smoothly, leaning back on his elbows and looking up at me with that lazy smile, “you might wanna give me a way to contact you.”

I paused, looking over at him, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, you think you’re slick, huh?”

He shrugged, giving me an innocent look that was anything but. “Just thinking ahead. In case you lose any more important items in the future… like your phone, your hat—hell, your sense of direction, since you clearly needed help last night.”

I rolled my eyes, laughing. “You really think I’m gonna fall for that?”

He tilted his head, flashing a charming grin. “Darlin’, you already fell for it.”

I let out an exasperated sigh, but there was no denying the grin on my face as I grabbed his phone from the nightstand. “Fine, I’ll put my number in your phone. But if I get any messages about lost bras, I’m blocking you,” I teased, typing my number into his contacts and tossing the phone back to him.

He caught it effortlessly, grinning as he glanced down at the screen. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, winking. “Unless you’re the one sending me a distress call next time.”

I shook my head, smirking as I turned toward the door. “You wish.”

“Already do,” he called out behind me, his voice playful and teasing, but with just enough sincerity to make my heart skip a beat as I left the room.

As soon as I stepped out of the room and into the hallway, I let out a long breath I didn’t even realize I’d been holding. Relief washed over me, but so did the heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. Holy hell, I actually survived that.

I stood there for a moment, my heart still racing from the whirlwind of the morning. Daniel’s playful smirk, his damn smooth lines—it was all still buzzing in my head, and the fact that I’d somehow managed to walk away with my dignity (mostly) intact felt like a miracle.

But then I caught sight of myself in the mirror at the end of the hallway. Oh no.

I was a mess. My hair looked like it had been through a windstorm, and my shirt from last night was wrinkled beyond repair. The smudged mascara under my eyes was giving me a whole new level of “walk of shame,” and I couldn’t help but cringe at my reflection.

This is what I left the room looking like? Oh, great.

I quickly ran my fingers through my hair, trying to smooth out the wild tangles and make myself look at least halfway decent. I tugged at the hem of my shirt, trying to straighten it out, but no matter what I did, it still screamed “last night’s mistakes.” I wiped away the smudged mascara with the edge of my sleeve, doing my best to clean up the damage.

My cheeks were still flushed from the sheer embarrassment of it all, and no amount of quick fixes was going to change the fact that I had just walked out of a guy’s hotel room looking like a hot mess. I bit my lip, shaking my head at myself in the mirror, my heart still pounding in my chest.

“Well, this is a look,” I muttered to myself, giving my reflection one last, exasperated glance before squaring my shoulders and heading for the elevator. Just get out of here, Y/N. Fast.

I smoothed my hair down one last time, took a deep breath, and headed toward the elevator, praying no one else in the hallway had witnessed my tragic attempt at post-hookup self-repair. The faster I got out of this hotel, the better. I was already pressing the elevator button repeatedly like I could summon it faster through sheer desperation.

Come on, come on…

Finally, the doors slid open, and I practically leaped inside. But the universe had other plans for me, because standing right there, already in the elevator, were Carrie and Johnny.

My heart stopped. I almost crapped my panties.

Carrie, my ex-best friend. Johnny, my ex-boyfriend. Of course they were here. Of all the elevators in this damn hotel. My stomach dropped as the realization hit me like a freight train, and suddenly I was right back in the middle of the heartbreak they’d both caused, except this time I looked like I’d just rolled out of a frat party.

I stared at them, my mind racing, wondering if I could somehow reverse time and avoid stepping into this death trap. But it was too late. I was standing there, and they were looking at me. Johnny’s eyes flicked up and down, taking in my rumpled clothes and messy hair. Carrie’s smile faltered, and her eyes widened, like she was realizing exactly what kind of morning I was having.

Fantastic. Just fantastic.

“Y/N?” Carrie’s voice was soft but laced with that familiar fake concern. “Wow, it’s been a while.”

Johnny just stood there, staring, that stupid, unreadable look on his face. He didn’t say anything, but the awkward silence hung in the air like a thick cloud.

I forced a tight smile, trying not to visibly cringe. “Yeah, well... things have been... busy.”

The elevator doors closed with a quiet thud, sealing me in with them. It was, without a doubt, the longest elevator ride of my life. I could feel Johnny’s eyes on me, that same calculating gaze that used to make me second-guess everything I said. And Carrie? She had that look on her face—the one that said she was definitely going to gossip about this later.

I stared straight ahead, willing the elevator to move faster, trying to breathe through the tension. Every second felt like an eternity, the silence only broken by the soft hum of the elevator as it slowly, agonizingly descended.

My mind raced. Of all the mornings to run into them, this had to be the one where I was dressed in last night’s wrinkled shirt, and my hair looked like it had gone to war with a curling iron. The fact that I’d just come from Daniel’s hotel room made it worse. Much worse.

I could feel the heat creeping up my neck again, but this time, it wasn’t from embarrassment over Daniel. It was from pure mortification.

Finally—finally—the elevator dinged, and the doors slid open to the lobby. I didn’t waste a second. “Well, this has been… fun,” I said, voice tight, and bolted out of the elevator like my life depended on it.

Behind me, I could feel their eyes still on me, and I could practically hear Carrie’s voice in my head already: Did you see Y/N this morning?

Kill me now.

As soon as I stepped out of the elevator and into the hotel lobby, the reality of the situation hit me like a ton of bricks. I stopped dead in my tracks, my heart dropping into my stomach. Oh no. No, no, no.

This wasn’t just any hotel.

This was Carrie’s hotel. Her family’s pride and joy. The one I had spent countless summer nights in when we were best friends, long before everything fell apart. Out of all the hotels in Austin, Daniel had to be staying at the one owned by Carrie’s family.

I groaned internally, my mind reeling. Of course, this was how my morning would go. The universe just loved to test me, apparently. I could already imagine Carrie’s smug little face, probably telling her family all about how I’d been seen leaving some guy’s room at her family’s hotel, looking like a mess. And Johnny—ugh, Johnny—had been right there to see it all, too. The two of them were probably plotting how to make this even more humiliating for me.

I felt my cheeks burn again, but this time it wasn’t from embarrassment. It was from sheer frustration. Out of all the places Daniel could have stayed, this had to be the one. What were the odds?

I shook my head, trying to compose myself, but the realization only made me want to crawl under a rock even more. Not only did I have the most awkward elevator ride in history with my cheating ex and ex-best friend, but now I was in their territory. This was their turf, and I just walked straight into it with no idea.

This day just keeps getting better and better, I thought bitterly, glancing around to make sure neither of them had followed me out of the elevator.

I glanced back at the lobby, memories flooding back from when Carrie and I used to run around this very place, pretending we were in some grand adventure. Funny how things had changed. So much for avoiding drama.

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yourusername

liked by user1, user2, and 10,289 others

yourusername: t-3 days until my sophomore album "The Cowgirls, Guns, & Horses" comes out, can't wait for everyone to hear it #tcgh

user1: i'm wayyy too excited for #tcgh i just know ts is too good

user2: everyone say amen for y/n for dropping out of uni to bless us with amazing music

user3: yeah it's literally crazy too , like she was going to be an engineer and literally quit her last year...😦😦

user2: it's lowkey sad but AT LEAST WE HAVE MUSICCC YASSS

user4: guys...did we see her on twt last night w a certain someone....

user5: wait no??!?! hello please fill me in on the tea 📖

user4: basically some op saw her in a bar with a shit ton our tourists, turns out one of them was non other than F1 DRIVER DANIEL RICCIARDO

user5: THERES NO WAY???

user6: wait who's that... i'm so out of the loop for pop culture guys... 😭😭🙏🏽

user7: he's this super famous formula one driver (drives fast cars in weird shaped circles) from australia and he LOVES the country

user8: yeah... he wears a cowboy hat so much its kind of goofy

user9: yeah and allegedly, SOMEONE SAW THEM GO SOMEWHERE IN A CAR TOGETHER 😃💃🏻

user10: DAMNNNN @/yourusername.... was the d fire 🔥🚒🧯

user11: @/user10 LMFAO GTFOOO

user12: wait so i know this album is gonna be lowkey sad but like what if she pops up w some suprise songs about daniel's cowboy...

user13: i'm DEAD what if she actually reads the comments

user12: i would simply pass tf away!!

danielricciardo

liked by user1, user2, and 109,110 others

danielricciardo: Save a horse, ride a cowboy #austingp

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I slid into the backseat of my Uber, letting out a long, frustrated sigh as I slumped against the door. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, but I waved off any small talk with a quick, “Rough morning.”

As we pulled away from the hotel, I scoffed, shaking my head at myself. Did I seriously just spend money to Uber to and from a booty call? The thought made me cringe. Out of all the impulsive decisions I’d made in my life, this one was quickly climbing the ranks. I mean, come on—Ubering to a random hotel was bad enough, but having to ride back in shame after? That was a whole new level of poor life choices.

By the time the Uber pulled up to my house, I was already mentally preparing to face the walk of shame into my own home. I quietly slipped inside, trying to be as stealthy as possible, when suddenly—

“Boo!”

I jumped a mile high, my heart nearly leaping out of my chest as my younger sister, Maddie, popped out of nowhere, grinning like a cat who caught a canary.

“Jesus, Maddie!” I whisper-yelled, clutching my chest. “What is wrong with you?”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, eyes immediately trailing up and down my disheveled outfit. “Uh, is that the same thing you wore yesterday?” she asked, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk. “Did you... seriously just come back from—”

I slapped my hand over her mouth before she could finish the sentence, my eyes wide. “Shh! Keep it down!” I hissed. “We are not having this conversation out here.”

Her eyes twinkled mischievously, but she nodded under my hand, so I let her go. I grabbed her wrist and dragged her down the hall, sneaking into my room like we were plotting a heist. Once inside, I shut the door behind us and turned to face her, arms crossed.

Maddie sat on the edge of my bed, looking way too pleased with herself. “Spill,” she said, not even bothering with a polite lead-in.

I groaned, rubbing my temples. “Fine. But you cannot tell anyone.”

She mimed zipping her lips and leaned in, ready for the juicy details.

“So…” I began, pacing the room. “Last night was a complete disaster. I ended up—well, you know—at some guy’s hotel room.”

Maddie’s eyes widened. “Wait, what? You? Miss ‘I Don’t Do Hookups’?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I muttered, flopping down beside her on the bed. “I don’t even know how it happened. We were drinking, flirting… one thing led to another, and next thing I know, I wake up in his bed.”

Maddie let out a low whistle. “Damn. And?”

“And…” I sighed, running a hand through my tangled hair. “It gets worse. Guess who I ran into on the elevator this morning?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Oh no, who?”

“Carrie. And Johnny,” I groaned, burying my face in my hands.

Maddie’s mouth dropped open in shock. “No way. You ran into both of them? At the hotel?”

I nodded miserably. “Yup. Turns out the hotel I was in? Carrie’s family’s hotel. Of course.”

She gasped dramatically, covering her mouth. “Oh my god, Y/N, that’s… that’s awful but kind of hilarious.”

I shot her a glare, though a small smile tugged at my lips. “Yeah, hilarious for you maybe. For me? Literal nightmare.”

Maddie giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos of my morning. “So, did they say anything?”

“Not really. Just awkward stares and Carrie’s fake concern. The whole thing was a disaster. I swear, I am never doing this again,” I said, shaking my head.

She grinned, nudging me with her elbow. “Never say never. But hey, at least you’ve got a hell of a story now.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed. “Trust me, I could’ve done without this particular story.”

I stared at the ceiling, still trying to process the absolute train wreck of a morning I’d just experienced, when Maddie’s voice cut through my thoughts.

“So, who’s this mystery guy you hooked up with?” she asked, nudging me again with a smirk.

I bit my lip, hesitating. Should I even say it? It felt surreal—like it wasn’t even real life—but what the hell, I was already in deep. “You’re not gonna believe this,” I muttered, sitting up and bracing myself. “His name’s Daniel. Daniel Ricciardo.”

Maddie’s jaw dropped so fast I thought it might hit the floor. “WHAT?!” she practically screamed, her eyes going wide with excitement. “THE Daniel Ricciardo? You slept with Daniel Ricciardo? As in F1 driver Daniel Ricciardo?”

I blinked, confused at her over-the-top reaction. “Uh, yeah? I mean, he said he’s a driver or something, but... I don’t really follow racing, so I didn’t think much of it.”

Maddie grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like I was the one losing my mind. “Y/N, are you serious? How did you not know who that was? He’s super famous! Like, ridiculously famous!”

I blinked, completely taken aback. “Wait, what? Famous famous?”

Maddie rolled her eyes, like I was the most clueless person on the planet. “Yes, famous famous! He’s one of the most popular Formula 1 drivers in the world! You know, the sport where they race the fastest cars? And, uh, hello, the Austin Grand Prix is in like five days! How do you not know this?”

My mouth dropped open as I tried to wrap my brain around what she was saying. “The Austin Grand Prix? You mean that thing that brings in all those tourists every year?”

“Yes! Exactly!” Maddie threw her hands up in the air, looking like she couldn’t believe my ignorance. “F1 is huge, Y/N. There are races all over the world, and Daniel Ricciardo is, like, one of the biggest personalities in the sport. People love him. He’s been racing for years, and he’s known for being super charismatic and... oh my god, you really didn’t know?”

I shook my head, completely floored. “I mean, he did say something about racing, but I didn’t realize it was that kind of racing. I just thought he meant, like, NASCAR or something.”

Maddie smacked her forehead. “Oh my god, you’re killing me. F1 is way bigger than NASCAR! It’s like the most elite motorsport in the world. And Daniel’s been racing for some of the top teams. How did you not realize you were with an actual celebrity?”

I stared at her, my mind reeling. “So, you’re telling me I just… slept with a world-famous driver and didn’t even realize it?”

Maddie nodded emphatically, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “Yup! And honestly, I’m a little jealous. I mean, Daniel Ricciardo, Y/N! He’s a big deal! Girls all over the world would kill to be in your position.”

I groaned, flopping back onto the bed, my hands covering my face. “Oh my god, I cannot believe this. I slept with a celebrity, and I didn’t even know it. What is my life?”

Maddie giggled, clearly having way too much fun with this. She flopped down next to me on the bed, her grin as wide as Texas. “Girl, don’t even stress. You’re a celebrity now too! You and Daniel Ricciardo? That’s some next-level, power couple stuff right there.”

I groaned louder, pressing my palms against my face. “Maddie, stop. I’m not a celebrity. I’m a girl who just had a really, really embarrassing one-night stand.”

She nudged me with her elbow, smirking. “Nah, you’re thinkin’ too small, sis. Just picture it! You’re up on stage with your guitar, singin’ your heart out, and Daniel’s out there in the crowd, front and center, lookin’ all fine and proud of his lil’ cowgirl.”

I rolled over onto my side, staring at her in disbelief. “Maddie, please. You’re daydreamin’ way too hard right now.”

But she wasn’t even listening, lost in her own fantasy. “Y’all could be, like, the ultimate couple. Country singer and an F1 driver? Hell, people would eat that up! He’d be all, ‘This here’s my gal, Y/N,’ and you’d be sittin’ there in the paddock, rockin’ those fancy hats like a boss. Shoot, you two would be in all the magazines!”

I shot her a look. “Maddie, we’re not even dating. It was one night, and I barely knew who he was until five minutes ago.”

She waved her hand, brushing off my concerns like dust off a pair of boots. “Psh, technicalities. I’m just sayin’, y’all could make waves. You’d be the talk of Texas and everywhere else too. Like a regular old-fashioned Bonnie and Clyde, but with less crime and more racin’.”

I laughed despite myself. “Yeah, sure. A cowgirl and a race car driver. That’ll be the day.”

Maddie wiggled her eyebrows. “Hey, you never know! Y’all could be splittin’ your time between the racetrack and the rodeo. And if anyone can pull off being a celebrity couple, it’s my big sis.”

I sat up, shaking my head but unable to keep the smile off my face. “You’re ridiculous.”

She grinned wide, leaning back on her elbows. “I know, but tell me I’m wrong.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to push away the ridiculous idea. But somewhere in the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, Maddie’s wild daydreams weren’t entirely out of reach.

Just as Maddie was about to launch into another wild daydream about me and Daniel conquering the world, there was a sharp knock on my door.

“Y/N? Maddie? What are y’all doin’ in there?” my mom’s voice called out from the hallway.

My eyes widened in horror. “Oh, crap,” I whispered, looking down at my crumpled shirt and yesterday’s jeans. No way could Mom see me like this. Not after last night.

Maddie, ever the quick thinker, jumped up, eyes wide. “You gotta change! Quick, or she’ll know!”

I scrambled off the bed, frantically grabbing the first pair of sweatpants I could find and yanking off my wrinkled jeans. “Uh, we’re just—hold on, Mom! Give us a sec!” I yelled back, pulling on the sweats and trying to find a shirt that didn’t scream ‘walk of shame.’

Mom knocked again, louder this time, sounding more impatient. “What’s takin’ so long? Y’all up to no good in there?”

Maddie shot me a panicked look, then, in true Maddie fashion, she came up with the most absurd lie possible. “Mom, we’re—uh—just checking if Y/N has a wart down there!”

My head snapped up so fast I nearly fell over. “WHAT?”

Maddie’s eyes were wide with mischief as she mouthed, Just go with it!

Mom was silent for a second, and then I heard a heavy sigh. “A wart? Y’all expect me to believe that?”

Maddie waved her arms around frantically, trying to sell the lie. “Yeah! You know, like, one of those really weird ones! We didn’t wanna make a fuss about it, so we’re handling it ourselves.”

I threw on a hoodie, pulling it over my head as fast as I could, all while glaring at Maddie. “Are you kidding me?” I whispered through gritted teeth, but she just gave me a thumbs-up.

Mom’s patience was clearly wearing thin. “Well, can’t this wait until later? I need y’all downstairs now.”

Maddie’s eyes darted around, looking for an escape. “Uh, well, it’s kind of urgent, Mom! You don’t just leave a wart alone, right? It could get... worse! Way worse!”

I buried my face in my hands, trying not to burst out laughing at how ridiculous this had become. But Maddie wasn’t letting up, and my mom, bless her, was clearly not buying it.

“Alright, enough. I don’t care if there’s a whole forest of warts down there! Get your butts downstairs in two minutes or I’m coming in!” Mom’s voice was firm now, and I could hear her foot tapping impatiently outside the door.

Maddie shot me a guilty look as I finally finished pulling myself together. “Okay, okay, we’re coming!” I yelled back, exasperated but unable to stop giggling at how absurd this situation had become.

As soon as we heard Mom walk away from the door, I turned to Maddie, shaking my head. “A wart? Really? That’s your best lie?”

Maddie grinned, completely unbothered. “Hey, I had to think fast! Besides, you know Mom was gonna barge in here if we didn’t come up with something good.”

I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but laugh. “I swear, if I ever have to explain to her that I don’t have warts, you’re taking the blame.”

“Deal,” Maddie said with a grin, grabbing my arm and dragging me toward the door. “Now let’s go before she drags us down there herself.”

Maddie and I hurried downstairs, trying our best to look normal — like we hadn’t just staged a ridiculous wart-related lie to keep Mom from barging into my room. As soon as we hit the bottom step, Mom was standing there with her arms crossed, eyeing us with that mom look that said she knew something was up but was choosing to let it slide for now.

She raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Y’all got those warts handled? Need me to call a doctor or somethin’?”

I groaned, rolling my eyes as Maddie snickered beside me. “We’re fine, Mom,” I muttered, trying not to blush all over again. “No doctor necessary.”

Mom chuckled and shook her head. “Alright, then. I need you two to run to the mart for me.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a grocery list, handing it over. “Just a few things I need for tonight. Don’t dilly-dally.”

I took the list and scanned it, my mind still racing from the chaos of the morning. Eggs, milk, sugar—normal stuff. But then I spotted cilantro circled three times with a little note that said, “Don’t forget this time!!!”

I sighed, folding the list up and sticking it in my pocket. “Got it, Mom. Anything else? Want us to pick up some wart cream while we’re at it?” I teased, shooting Maddie a glance.

Maddie snorted, and Mom swatted me lightly on the arm. “Just get what’s on the list, smart mouth.”

We headed out the door and into the driveway, where Maddie tossed me the keys to my truck. “Your turn to drive,” she said, hopping into the passenger seat with a grin. “I’m still recovering from your fashion disaster this morning.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered, climbing into the driver’s seat. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?”

“Not a chance,” she said, smirking as I started the engine. The truck roared to life, and we pulled out of the driveway, heading toward the mart.

As we cruised down the road, the Texas sun beating down on us, I finally started to relax. The insanity of the morning was starting to fade, and it felt good to just drive, even if it was for groceries.

“Cilantro, huh?” Maddie said, glancing at the list as we pulled into the parking lot of the mart. “You better not forget that, or Mom’s gonna throw a fit.”

I parked the truck and unbuckled my seatbelt. “Yeah, I know. We’re on a cilantro mission now.”

We hopped out of the truck, laughing about the morning's chaos as we headed inside. At least now, it was just me, Maddie, and a simple grocery list to tackle.

Maddie and I wandered through the grocery store aisles, chatting about nothing in particular as we grabbed the items on Mom’s list. Everything was going smoothly until I remembered the cilantro.

“Maddie, I can’t forget the cilantro. Mom will kill me if I come back without it.” I scanned the store like I was hunting for buried treasure, and then—out of the corner of my eye—I spotted it. The last bunch of cilantro.

“There!” I practically shouted, pointing across the produce section. Without thinking, I made a mad dash for it, leaving Maddie behind as I zeroed in on my target. Nothing was going to stop me from getting this cilantro—not after what happened last time.

But just as I reached for it, my hand collided with someone else’s.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” a familiar voice said, as our hands both grabbed for the same bunch. “In a rush, are we?”

I looked up and found myself staring directly into Daniel’s mischievous eyes. My heart skipped a beat—of all people.

“You?” I blurted, both annoyed and surprised.

Daniel grinned, raising an eyebrow as his hand still held onto the cilantro. “What, you didn’t think you’d see me again?”

I blinked, trying to recover from the sudden collision, both physically and mentally. “I—uh—no, I just didn’t expect to be fighting you over a bunch of cilantro,” I said, still clutching the herb in one hand as he held the other end.

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Well, if you’d been a little slower, this wouldn’t be a problem.”

I scoffed, narrowing my eyes at him. “Slower? I was practically flying over here. I saw it first.”

“Oh, really?” He tilted his head, that playful smirk of his back in full force. “I’m pretty sure I had my hand on it before you did.”

“Dream on, Ricciardo,” I shot back, trying to yank the cilantro from his grip. “It’s mine.”

He tightened his hold, clearly enjoying this way too much. “Tell you what—we’ll share it.”

“Share?” I raised an eyebrow. “What, you want to split a bunch of cilantro? What are we, in preschool?”

Daniel laughed, pulling it toward him slightly. “I mean, it’s either that or you admit defeat.”

“Admit defeat?” I shot him a glare. “I don’t lose at grocery shopping.”

“Is that so?” His grin widened as he leaned in closer, his face just a little too close for comfort. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re losing.”

My cheeks flushed, and I yanked the cilantro again, this time breaking the bunch in half. “There. Now we’re both losers.”

He burst out laughing, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Fair enough. You really don’t like losing, do you?”

I crossed my arms, trying to hide the fact that I was blushing. “Not when I’m up against people who think they can out-shop me.”

Daniel leaned against the cart, still grinning like he was having the time of his life. “Alright, you win this round, but I’m telling you—next time, I’m taking the whole bunch.”

I shook my head, trying not to laugh. “Good luck with that.”

Just then, Maddie appeared behind me, her eyes going wide when she realized who I was standing next to. “Uh, Y/N? What’s going on here?”

I turned to Maddie, holding up my half of the cilantro. “Just winning a fight, that’s all.”

Daniel winked at Maddie before looking back at me. “More like a draw, if we’re being honest.”

I rolled my eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at my lips. “Whatever helps you sleep at night, Ricciardo.”

Maddie raised her eyebrows, her grin spreading. “Oh, this is definitely going in my scrapbook.”

Daniel chuckled, still holding his half of the cilantro like it was a prize. Just as I was about to turn away, he slipped something into my hand, so smooth I almost didn’t realize he’d done it.

I blinked, glancing down at the small folded piece of paper. “What’s this?” I asked, unfolding it carefully, my curiosity piqued.

Before I could even figure it out, Maddie was already craning her neck to see. Her eyes widened in excitement the second she caught a glimpse. “Oh my god, Y/N, do you even know what these are?!”

I looked at her, completely confused. “What do you mean?”

She pointed excitedly at the paper in my hands. “Those are paddock passes! For the Austin GP! You’ve got three-day passes to the entire race weekend! Do you even understand how hard these are to get?”

I stared down at the passes, my jaw practically hitting the floor. “Wait, what?”

Daniel smirked, casually leaning against his cart, clearly enjoying my reaction. “Yeah, figured you might want to see what all this F1 fuss is about, and I happened to have an extra pass. So, you know, if you’re not too busy fighting over cilantro.”

I looked up at him, completely floored. “You... got me paddock passes? For three days?”

He shrugged, looking way too casual about the whole thing. “What can I say? I’m glad I grabbed an extra one just in case.” His eyes flickered with that familiar playful glint. “And now, I’m even gladder.”

Maddie, still buzzing with excitement, suddenly stepped forward, grinning ear to ear. “Oh, where are my manners?” She extended her hand. “I’m Maddie, by the way. You know, the better sister.”

Daniel burst into laughter, shaking her hand. “Well, if you’re anything like your sister, I think I’m in for trouble.”

Maddie winked at him. “Trouble’s our middle name. But really, she’s the one you’ve gotta watch out for.”

I shot Maddie a glare, trying to keep my cool even though my heart was still racing. “Maddie, stop.”

Daniel grinned, turning his attention back to me. “I dunno, I kind of like trouble. Keeps things interesting.”

I rolled my eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up my neck. “You just like making everything a competition.”

He tilted his head, that infuriatingly charming smirk still on his face. “Maybe. Or maybe I just like seeing how far I can push you.”

Maddie laughed, nudging me with her elbow. “Oh, he’s good, Y/N. Better watch out, or you’re gonna find yourself in the middle of a Grand Prix.”

Daniel grinned, leaning in just a little. “Well, with those passes, you might just end up front and center.”

I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head at how ridiculous this had all become. “You seriously just carry extra paddock passes around?”

“Only when I think they might come in handy,” he said, eyes glinting. “And I had a feeling you’d appreciate them more than anyone else here.”

I raised an eyebrow, still not entirely sure how this was my life. “You’re something else, you know that?”

He smiled, holding up his half of the cilantro. “Takes one to know one.”

I stared at the paddock passes in my hand, still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Daniel Ricciardo—actual Formula 1 driver—had just handed me access to the most exclusive part of the Austin GP like it was no big deal. Meanwhile, Maddie looked like she was about to combust from excitement.

“I mean, front and center at a Grand Prix?” Maddie piped up, clearly having the time of her life with this. “Y/N, do you even understand how cool that is? You’re basically about to be part of the elite crowd. And you didn’t even know who he was two days ago.”

I shot her a look, trying not to blush as I turned back to Daniel. “I feel like I should be saying thanks, but... are you sure? This feels a little...”

“Too good to be true?” Daniel finished with a smirk, crossing his arms. “I get that a lot. But trust me, I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it. Plus, I didn’t want to go through the weekend wondering if you’d ever stop fighting over cilantro.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “You’re really gonna hang onto that, aren’t you?”

“Only as long as it keeps you on your toes.” He grinned, his gaze holding mine a second longer than necessary. “Besides, now you’ve got no excuse not to come.”

Maddie, never one to miss an opportunity, jumped in with a grin. “Oh, she’ll be there. I’ll make sure of it. You’re looking at the world’s most stubborn person right here, but once she commits, she’s all in.”

Daniel raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Is that so?”

I rolled my eyes, trying to suppress the smile tugging at my lips. “I wouldn’t listen to her. She’s just trying to recruit me into her fantasy F1 life.”

Maddie snorted. “Uh, you slept with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got paddock passes. I think that fantasy is turning into reality, sis.”

I groaned, rubbing my face in embarrassment. “Maddie, please.”

Daniel chuckled, glancing between the two of us. “You two are something else. This is probably the most fun I’ve had at a grocery store in... ever.”

I crossed my arms, half smiling despite myself. “Well, I guess we know who to thank for that. You’re really making a habit of surprising me, aren’t you?”

He leaned in just slightly, his grin widening. “I’ll take that as a compliment. Just wait ‘til you see what surprises I’ve got lined up for the weekend.”

Maddie’s eyebrows shot up. “Ooh, mysterious. I like it.”

I shot her a look but couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, fine. You win. I’ll come to the race.”

Daniel winked, clearly satisfied. “Knew you would. See you in the paddock, then.” He tipped his imaginary hat and turned to walk away, but not before flashing one last grin. “Don’t forget to bring your competitive spirit. You’re gonna need it.”

I watched him go, my heart still racing as Maddie practically squealed beside me. “Oh my god, Y/N! This is insane!”

I shook my head, laughing. “Yeah, it is. I can’t believe I’m actually going to an F1 race.”

Maddie grinned, nudging me again. “Not just any race. You’re going with Daniel freaking Ricciardo. Girl, this is like something out of a movie.”

I rolled my eyes, but a small part of me couldn’t deny how surreal—and thrilling—it all felt.

After successfully scouring the back of the store and miraculously finding one last bunch of cilantro hidden behind some parsley, Maddie and I made our way to the checkout. I could barely keep my head straight, still reeling from my unexpected run-in with Daniel, while Maddie was practically bouncing with excitement, shooting me side-glances the entire time we loaded up the cart.

Once we were through the checkout and back in the truck, Maddie wasted no time. As soon as I turned the ignition, she turned toward me, eyes wide with anticipation. "Okay, enough stalling. You have to give me details about the one-night stand. I mean, come on. It's Daniel Ricciardo! Spill it!"

I groaned, gripping the steering wheel and backing out of the parking spot. “Maddie, please.”

She crossed her arms, giving me her best "I’m-not-letting-this-go" look. “Oh, no, no. You’re not getting out of this one. I need the full rundown. Like, what happened? How did it happen? How is he? Is he a good—”

“Maddie!” I cut her off, feeling the heat rise to my face. “I am not telling you that.”

She smirked, not even remotely phased by my protests. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like you weren’t just as shocked to wake up next to him. I mean, how does someone like you,” she gestured to me dramatically, “end up in bed with someone like him?”

I rolled my eyes, laughing despite myself. “Trust me, I was just as surprised as you are. It wasn’t even planned! We were both tipsy, flirting at the bar... and, well, you know how those things go.”

Maddie practically squealed. “So, was it... like, really good?”

I groaned again, my face probably a bright shade of red by now. “Maddie, I’m not talking about that. Just know that... it was fine, okay? We were both drunk, and it happened. End of story.”

She pouted but kept pushing. “Ugh, fine. But was he sweet? Was he funny in the morning? Or did he just roll over and pretend like nothing happened?”

I snorted, shaking my head as I turned onto the road. “No, actually, he was... really chill about it. We joked around a bit, and he didn’t make it awkward. I mean, we even fought over cilantro in the grocery store, and he’s still as annoyingly charming as ever.”

Maddie let out a dreamy sigh. “Of course, he’s charming. Ugh, I bet that smile of his could get you to do anything. No wonder you ended up in his hotel room.”

I shot her a look. “Can you not make me sound like a complete pushover?”

She giggled, holding her hands up in surrender. “I’m just saying! You gotta admit, he’s got some serious game.”

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. “Yeah, he’s definitely got something. But honestly, I don’t even know what to make of it all. One minute, I’m waking up in his bed, and the next, I’ve got paddock passes for a whole race weekend.”

Maddie leaned back in her seat, eyes wide with curiosity. “Okay, okay, but I have to ask the important question.” She paused for dramatic effect, smirking like she was about to drop the most scandalous question of all time.

I narrowed my eyes at her. “What now?”

She grinned, wiggling her eyebrows. “Is it... big?”

I nearly choked on my own laughter, my face instantly heating up. “Maddie!” I exclaimed, giving her a light shove. “Oh my god, you can’t just ask that!”

She burst out laughing, completely unfazed. “Come on! You hooked up with a famous race car driver! You know I had to ask!”

I covered my face, shaking my head. “This is not happening right now.”

Maddie nudged me again, still giggling. “I’m just sayin’, you can’t drop all these details about Daniel freakin’ Ricciardo and expect me to not be curious! It’s, like, basic sister requirements.”

I sighed, laughing despite the embarrassment. “I’m not telling you that. Besides, some things are meant to be kept private!”

She threw her hands up in surrender, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. “Fine, fine. But I’m just gonna assume the answer’s yes based on how flustered you are right now.”

I rolled my eyes, grabbing the grocery bags. “You’re impossible, you know that?”

She beamed at me, completely proud of herself. “It’s part of my charm. Now let’s go inside before Mom gets suspicious.”

We stepped out of the truck, and as we made our way toward the house, Maddie shot me one last teasing glance. “I still can’t believe this. You’re living the dream, sis. Now we just have to get you through the race without tripping over yourself.”

I laughed, shaking my head as we walked inside. “Easier said than done, trust me.”

Maddie winked. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there to keep you grounded. And, you know, ask more questions about... size later.”

I groaned. “Maddie, I swear, if you bring that up again—”

She cut me off with a giggle. “Relax, I’ll save it for after the race. Maybe Daniel will answer it for me.”

I gave her a mock-serious glare as we stepped into the kitchen. “If you ask him anything remotely like that, I’ll personally disown you as my sister.”

Maddie just grinned, completely unfazed by my threat. “Oh, come on! You know you’re curious too. I bet Daniel’s the type to joke right back—he seems like he’s got that smooth banter down.”

I rolled my eyes, setting the grocery bags down on the counter. “Yeah, well, I’d rather not find out in front of you.”

She grabbed a bunch of cilantro, holding it up like it was a victory flag. “Fine, fine. I’ll behave at the race... but no promises if the opportunity presents itself.”

I groaned again, shaking my head. “You will kill me one day, you know?”

Maddie smirked as she placed the cilantro in the fridge, turning to me with a wink. “Hey, if you’re gonna be dating an F1 driver, you better get used to me asking all the embarrassing questions. It’s a sister’s job to keep things interesting.”

I felt my face flush at the mention of “dating” Daniel, quickly brushing it off. “Who said anything about dating? This was just a one-time thing.”

Maddie raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Uh-huh, sure. You just happened to have a ‘one-time thing’ with Daniel Ricciardo, and now you’ve got three-day paddock passes? Girl, please.”

I crossed my arms, trying to sound firm. “We’re not dating.”

She gave me a knowing smile. “Maybe not yet, but trust me, once you’re up close and personal at that race, things might change. I mean, the man gave you paddock passes, Y/N. He’s clearly not done with you.”

I rolled my eyes again, but I couldn’t deny the flutter in my chest at her words. “Whatever, Maddie. Let’s just focus on surviving this weekend without you embarrassing me in front of him.”

Maddie grinned, stepping closer and nudging me with her elbow. “I make no promises. But I will say this—you better have fun. It’s not every day you get to hang out with a superstar. Just... remember to breathe when you see him again.”

I laughed, despite the butterflies in my stomach. “Yeah, yeah. Now help me finish putting these groceries away before Mom comes in and asks what’s taking so long.”

Maddie threw me a playful wink as she grabbed the rest of the groceries. “You got it. But I’m definitely asking for more details after the race.”

I groaned, but there was no hiding my smile. As much as Maddie drove me crazy, I couldn’t deny that having her along for this wild ride was exactly what I needed.

Maddie and I stepped into the kitchen, laughing and joking about who could embarrass me more at the race when we both suddenly stopped dead in our tracks.

Sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea like it was the most casual thing in the world, were Carrie and her mother, Savannah.

I froze, my heart sinking to my stomach. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.

My mom glanced up, clearly trying to keep the peace with a polite smile, but there was no missing the tension in the air. “Oh, hey girls,” she said, in a tone that was way too casual for the situation. “We’re just having a little afternoon tea.”

Savannah gave us a small wave, her southern charm still as present as ever. “Hi, Y/N. Maddie. It’s been a while.”

Carrie glanced up at me, and for a second, I saw the flicker of recognition in her eyes. I could tell she was remembering the hotel elevator, just like I was. The awkward tension between us stretched out as thin as it could go.

In my head, a thousand thoughts ran wild. Why are they here? I knew the answer, though. My mom and Savannah had been cordial for years, mostly because they had to be. Both of them were rodeo managers for the same rodeo company, which meant they had to stay civil for the sake of work. The whole town knew their friendship was... well, strained at best. But here they were, playing nice over afternoon tea like it was some kind of forced social obligation.

Maddie, always the one to break awkward silences, cleared her throat. “Uh... hey, Mrs. Summers. Carrie.”

Carrie’s mom, Savannah, smiled politely, her perfect rodeo-queen hair barely moving as she lifted her teacup. “It’s lovely to see you two. Your mother and I were just catching up on the rodeo business.”

Of course you were, I thought bitterly. The rodeo world was so small, and no matter how much I wanted to avoid it—or Carrie—I couldn’t escape it.

My mom, sensing the tension, glanced between us. “Savannah and I were talking about the upcoming event. Looks like it’s going to be a busy season.”

Maddie shifted uncomfortably beside me. “Yeah, busy. Fun.” Her usual energy was suddenly subdued, which I knew was her way of trying to keep things from getting too awkward. Not that it was working.

Carrie, ever the queen of awkward stares, finally spoke, her tone as polite as ever. “It’s... good to see you, Y/N.” She hesitated, glancing at her mother before continuing. “How have you been?”

I forced a smile, trying not to let the awkwardness show on my face. “Great. Just, you know, busy.” Really busy fighting you in elevators and trying to forget you even exist.

Carrie nodded, sipping her tea, and the silence between us stretched even further. I could feel the weight of Savannah’s eyes on me, like she was silently assessing everything—our strained friendship, my disheveled appearance from running errands, everything.

Maddie, never one to let tension linger, piped up again. “Well, we just got back from the mart. You know, had to get that cilantro Mom keeps losing her mind over.”

Savannah smiled tightly. “Ah, yes. Cilantro can be tricky.”

I almost laughed at the absurdity of the moment, but I managed to hold it in, keeping the strained smile on my face. I just wanted this impromptu tea party from hell to be over with.

The silence in the kitchen stretched on, thick and awkward, like we were all waiting for something to break it but hoping it wouldn’t be us. I could feel Maddie’s discomfort beside me, her usual spark dimmed in the presence of Carrie and her mom. My mind raced with a mix of irritation and embarrassment—of all the days for them to be here, this had to be it.

Carrie set her teacup down gently, the soft clink of porcelain against porcelain filling the room like a final punctuation to the unbearable silence. She gave me a tight-lipped smile, that same fake pleasantness I’d grown used to over the years. “Well, it sounds like you’ve been keeping busy.”

Busy avoiding you, I thought, but instead I just nodded. “Yeah, something like that.” I forced a smile that probably looked more like a grimace.

Savannah, ever the poised and perfect woman she was, glanced at my mom and then back at us, her hands wrapped neatly around her teacup. “It’s important to stay productive. Especially with everything going on in the rodeo season. You girls must be a big help around here.”

I bit back the urge to laugh. My mom might be cordial with Savannah for the sake of their professional lives as rodeo managers, but the subtext was loud and clear. They barely tolerated each other, both knowing that competition was part of their work, and now that tension had trickled down to Carrie and me—and Maddie by default.

Maddie, bless her, tried to keep things light. “Oh, we’re great at helping out... with, uh, grocery shopping.” She flashed a smile, holding up the cilantro like it was some grand prize. “Mom’s got us on strict cilantro duty these days.”

Mom shot Maddie a look, clearly not in the mood for her humor right now. “Thank you, Maddie.”

Savannah raised an eyebrow at Maddie’s comment, but kept her voice smooth. “Cilantro can make or break a meal, I suppose.”

Carrie glanced at me again, her eyes flicking up and down, probably still processing our awkward encounter in the hotel elevator. “You know,” she said, her voice too casual, “I think I saw you at the Hilton the other day, Y/N. Were you there for something special?”

My stomach dropped. Of course she’d bring it up.

“Yeah, I... had some errands downtown,” I said, trying to keep my tone even. No way was I going to let her know about Daniel, not with her mother sitting right there.

Maddie, though, being Maddie, had no such reservations about subtlety. “Oh, you know, just casually bumping into Formula 1 drivers. No big deal.”

Carrie’s eyes widened slightly, and I saw her mom’s eyebrows lift in surprise.

“Formula 1 drivers?” Savannah asked, her tone suddenly more interested than it had been for the entire tea party.

I shot Maddie a seriously? look, but she just grinned like she’d been waiting to drop this bomb the entire time. “Yeah, we ran into Daniel Ricciardo. Real nice guy.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened just slightly, and I could tell she was piecing it all together. She probably knew exactly what had happened in that elevator. “Wow, Daniel Ricciardo,” she said, her voice cool. “That’s... interesting.”

Savannah, ever the picture of elegance, nodded approvingly. “Well, that’s quite a meeting. Formula 1 is certainly prestigious. You must have made quite the impression.”

I resisted the urge to laugh. Yeah, I made an impression, alright. But instead, I shrugged, trying to play it off. “It was... unexpected.”

Carrie’s eyes flickered with something—maybe curiosity, maybe envy—but her lips pressed together in a tight line. “Unexpected, huh?” she said, her voice a little too casual. “I’m sure it was.”

I could tell she wasn’t buying my attempt to downplay the situation. She knew. She’d probably already started piecing together the story from the elevator and was likely imagining a whole different version of events—one where she could twist it into something more dramatic.

Savannah, on the other hand, smiled that perfectly polished smile she always had, but I could see a glint of interest in her eyes. “Well, you’re certainly moving in impressive circles these days, Y/N. Formula 1 drivers... that’s a step up from the usual rodeo crowd, don’t you think?”

I bit back a smirk. “I guess you could say that.”

Carrie’s jaw tightened a little more, and I could see the wheels turning in her head. She had that look on her face—the one that said she was already planning how to bring this up the next time she was with her friends. She’d never admit it, but the idea of me bumping into someone like Daniel Ricciardo clearly irked her.

She straightened up in her seat, brushing a lock of perfectly styled hair behind her ear. “Well, it must’ve been nice to meet someone so... prestigious,” she said, her tone dripping with false politeness. “I’m sure it was a brief encounter.”

I raised an eyebrow, trying to keep my cool. “Yeah, brief.” I decided it was better not to mention the three-day paddock passes in my back pocket. The less ammunition Carrie had, the better.

Savannah, still smiling, added, “I wouldn’t be surprised if you saw him again at some point. Those kinds of connections have a way of resurfacing.”

I nodded, doing my best to seem nonchalant, but I couldn’t help glancing at Carrie, who was staring at me with just a little too much interest.

Carrie leaned forward slightly, her eyes narrowing just a bit. “So, what did you two talk about? I mean, you don’t exactly strike me as the F1 type.”

I could feel Maddie practically vibrating with excitement beside me, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable Carrie was. “Oh, we talked about racing. Rodeo. Life,” I said, keeping my response vague. I wasn’t about to give her the satisfaction of knowing more.

Carrie raised her eyebrow, sensing I wasn’t going to give her more details, but she couldn’t resist pushing a little further. “Rodeo, huh? That’s cute. I bet he found all of that... fascinating.”

Before I could respond, Maddie jumped in, her voice sweet but sharp. “Actually, he seemed really interested. You know, not everyone can handle a fast-paced life like Y/N’s. Some people are more into... exciting things.”

I shot Maddie a look, barely suppressing my grin as she winked at me.

Carrie’s smile faltered for just a second before she regained her composure. “Well, good for you, Y/N,” she said, her tone cold enough to send a chill through the room. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in with the race car crowd.”

Carrie’s words hung in the air like a challenge, her eyes flicking over me, searching for any sign of discomfort. But I wasn’t about to let her get the upper hand—not today.

I smiled, my voice steady. “I’m sure I will. After all, fast-paced lives aren’t for everyone.” I kept my tone light, but there was no missing the underlying message.

Carrie’s smile tightened, her fingers twitching slightly as she adjusted the strap of her designer bag. “Well, best of luck keeping up. Those kinds of people tend to leave others in the dust if they can’t handle the speed.”

Maddie, ever the bold one, didn’t miss a beat. “Oh, Y/N can handle anything. Don’t you worry about that.”

Carrie’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she forced another smile. “Of course. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

I could practically hear Maddie holding back a giggle beside me. Carrie’s frustration was almost palpable, and I knew we were getting to her. She was always one to hold her cards close, but right now, the fact that I’d spent time with someone like Daniel Ricciardo—a man from a world far beyond Carrie’s reach—had clearly rattled her.

Savannah, ever the picture of grace, stepped in before things could escalate any further. “Alright, girls. We really must be going.” She placed a hand on Carrie’s shoulder, guiding her toward the door, but not before giving me one last glance. “You’ll have to tell us more about your Formula 1 adventures next time, Y/N.”

I nodded, keeping my expression neutral. “We’ll see how the weekend goes.”

Carrie shot me one last look as they turned to leave, her voice almost too casual. “Enjoy the race. Let’s hope it’s as exciting as you’re expecting.”

I held her gaze, giving her the smallest of smirks. “Oh, I’m sure it will be.”

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them, Maddie let out the loudest laugh, finally letting go of all the tension that had been bubbling up during that excruciatingly polite exchange.

“Did you see her face?” Maddie said, practically bouncing with glee. “She’s absolutely livid. I can’t believe you kept your cool like that!”

I exhaled, leaning against the counter. “Barely. She almost had me when she started pushing about Daniel.”

Maddie waved her hand dismissively. “Nah, you handled that like a champ. I mean, did you see how she tried to act all nonchalant? She’s probably seething inside.”

I grinned, shaking my head. “Well, let’s hope she stews on it for a while. Maybe she’ll back off.”

Maddie laughed, grabbing a soda from the fridge. “Or maybe she’ll just get more competitive. Either way, you’re the one with the paddock passes and a date with Daniel Ricciardo.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “It’s not a date.”

She gave me a mischievous look. “We’ll see about that.”

As Maddie and I were still laughing about the showdown with Carrie, my mom suddenly cleared her throat from the kitchen doorway. “Oh,” she said, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms, “so that’s where you were. I was wondering why you came back home looking like you’d been wrestling a tornado. Turns out you were just... banging some famous Formula 1 driver, huh?”

I froze, mid-laugh, and Maddie immediately burst into giggles, almost choking on her soda.

“MOM!” I spluttered, my face burning red. “I—I wasn’t—”

“Oh, honey,” my mom interrupted, waving a hand. “I don’t need the details. I’m just surprised you didn’t even bother to sneak in quietly after all that ‘looking for warts business’” She put heavy air quotes around her later statement, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm.

I rubbed my temples, feeling the embarrassment crawl up my neck. “It wasn’t... like that.”

Maddie, still giggling, jumped in. “Oh, it was exactly like that. Just wait until you hear about the cilantro.”

Mom raised an eyebrow, her smirk not fading. “Cilantro, huh? Sounds like that’s code for something else entirely.”

I groaned. “Mom! I am not having this conversation with you right now.”

She laughed, coming over and placing a hand on my shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, sweetie. But next time, try to sneak in a little less obviously. And maybe let your poor mother know if you plan on... running into celebrities in the future.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but Maddie quickly jumped in, still laughing. “Oh, don’t worry, Mom. If she ever brings Daniel Ricciardo home, you’ll be the first to know.”

My mom winked at me. “You better believe it. Just make sure to feed the poor boy—don’t want him leaving hungry after all that... grocery shopping.” She gave me a teasing smile, clearly enjoying every second of my discomfort.

I buried my face in my hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Maddie leaned over, patting me on the back with a grin. “Welcome to the family, sis. Nothing stays secret here.”

After the chaos with Carrie, my mom’s teasing, and Maddie’s relentless jokes about Daniel, I finally retreated to my room, grateful for some peace and quiet. I had a big task ahead of me, one that had been on my mind for weeks—finalizing my album. The release date was just around the corner, and there were still a few loose ends to tie up.

I sat at my desk, flipping through the notebook that held all my song lyrics. Most of the album was finished, a mix of country ballads, heartbreak anthems, and some upbeat tracks about the wild, unpredictable life of a cowgirl. But something was missing. As I strummed my guitar absentmindedly, my thoughts kept drifting back to the events of the last couple of days—the bar, the unexpected encounter with Daniel, the flirting, the way he made me feel more alive than I’d felt in a long time.

Without even thinking, I started jotting down lyrics. The melody came first, soft and steady, like a heartbeat. The words followed, spilling out onto the page as I replayed that night in my mind. The tequila, the banter, the way he leaned in close with that lazy smile, and how I’d felt—nervous, excited, like I was diving into something new and unexpected.

Before I knew it, I had a full song written about that night. The lyrics were a little cheeky, playful, and flirty, with just enough emotional undertones to make it feel real. It wasn’t like the other songs on my album, but somehow, it fit. It felt right. It felt like something I needed to include.

I sat back, looking at the lyrics on the page, and let out a breath. “Okay,” I whispered to myself, “this might actually work.”

But there was one hurdle left—convincing my manager.

I picked up my phone and called them. It didn’t take long for the line to click, and my manager’s voice came through, warm but business-like as always. “Y/N! We’re almost there. Everything’s looking good for the album release. What’s up?”

I took a deep breath. “Hey, I’ve been thinking... I wrote a new song today. It’s about something that just happened recently, and I feel like it needs to be on the album.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and I could hear them flipping through notes. “A new song? Y/N, we’re cutting it pretty close to the release date. Is it finished?”

“Yeah, it’s finished. I can send you a rough cut tonight,” I said, my heart pounding a little faster now. “I know it’s last minute, but this song... it’s important. It’s different from the other tracks, but it feels like the missing piece. I don’t want it on the physical CDs or anything—we can just add it to the online release.”

Another pause, and I held my breath, waiting.

Finally, my manager spoke, their tone thoughtful. “Send it over. I’ll take a listen. If it’s as good as you’re saying, we can make it work for the digital release. But no promises until I hear it.”

A wave of relief washed over me. “Thanks, I’ll send it over in an hour.”

I hung up the phone and got to work, recording a rough version of the song. It wasn’t polished, but the emotion was there, raw and real, just like that night with Daniel. When I listened back, I smiled, feeling a sense of satisfaction settle over me. This song wasn’t planned, but it felt like it was meant to be there, like it had been waiting for the right moment to come out.

Once the recording was done, I sent it off to my manager and leaned back in my chair, guitar still resting in my lap. The day had started out so wild, but now, here I was, about to add a brand-new track to my album because of an unexpected encounter at a bar with a Formula 1 driver.

It was crazy, sure—but it was my kind of crazy. The kind that made life interesting, that made music worth creating.

As soon as I hit send on the rough cut of the song to my manager, my phone buzzed in my hand. I glanced down and, to my surprise, saw Daniel’s name lighting up my screen. My heart skipped a beat—I wasn’t expecting to hear from him so soon, if at all. I swiped the notification open, and his message popped up.

Daniel: 👀 So… did I win the cilantro war or what?

I snorted, shaking my head. Of course he’d bring that up.

Me: you wish... i think we agreed it was a draw, remember?

A few moments passed, and another message popped up.

Daniel: Sure, sure. I’ll let you keep telling yourself that. But really, I let you have it. Gentleman and all. 😏

I rolled my eyes, biting back a smile as I typed back.

Me: oh, you let me win, huh? that’s the story you’re going with??!

Daniel: Obviously. Wouldn’t want to start a feud over herbs. You Texans can be dangerous when you don’t get your cilantro.

I chuckled to myself, feeling the tension from earlier slip away as we fell into easy banter.

Me: you’re totally right. we don’t mess around with cilantro here. it’s practically sacred!! 😭

Daniel: I’m starting to see that. 😅 So, how’s your day been, besides our grocery aisle showdown?

I hesitated for a second, fingers hovering over the keyboard. Should I tell him about the song? About Carrie and the whole awkward tea party? I decided to keep it light for now.

Me: oh, you know... just the usual—running errands, finalizing some stuff for my album release. nothing too exciting, what about you?

His response came quickly.

Daniel: Not as exciting as your day, I’m sure. Just some press stuff and getting ready for the race. Though I guess that means I’m busy dodging questions about why I’m spending so much time in the grocery store lately. 😏

I laughed, imagining him charming his way through whatever interviews he had lined up, somehow making even his grocery shopping sound interesting.

Me: yeah, i’m sure the twitter is DYING to know all about your cilantro preferences.

Daniel: Oh, absolutely. “Ricciardo spotted in aisle five—what does this mean for the upcoming race?” 😆

Me: groundbreaking stuff😣😣. we’re really pushing the boundaries here.

His next text came through quickly, and I could almost hear the teasing in his voice.

Daniel: Speaking of groundbreaking... any chance this album’s got a song about a certain Aussie driver in it? 😏

I froze for a second, staring at his message. He had no idea how close he was to the truth.

Me: actually… funny you mention that. i may or may not have written something inspired by a recent bar encounter. 😉

There was a brief pause before his reply, and I imagined him raising an eyebrow on the other end.

Daniel: Oh? Inspired by, huh? Now you’ve got my attention. Do I get to hear this masterpiece before the rest of the world does?

I grinned, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. I wasn’t sure how he’d react, but something told me he’d find it amusing.

Me: maybe... but only if you promise not to make fun of me. i just wrote it today, so it’s still fresh. it's my newborn baby 💗💗💗

Daniel: Promise. I’m intrigued now. What’s it called?

I paused, biting my lip before typing.

Me: i haven’t decided on a title yet, but let’s just say it has a lot to do with flirting, tequila, and someone wearing a cowboy hat...😏

His response came quickly, and I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

Daniel: Well, that narrows it down. Sounds like a banger already. 😎 When do I get to hear it?

I hesitated, unsure if I was really ready to let him listen to something so personal so soon. But then again, the whole point of the song was how unexpected and spontaneous things had been with him.

Me: soon...maybe if you behave yourself at the race. 😏

Daniel: Behave? Me? I’ll do my best, but no promises. 😉

I rolled my eyes, grinning at the screen. He had a way of keeping things light, but there was still something underneath all the teasing that felt... real.

Me: alright alright cowboy, well, you’ll have to wait just like everyone else then. patience is a virtue, right?!

Daniel: Patience is overrated, but for you, I guess I can try. 😎

I laughed, shaking my head. This was getting too fun.

Me: good. now go prepare for your race before you get too distracted.

Daniel: Oh, trust me, I’m already distracted. You’re making it hard to focus on track times, you know that?

I felt a blush creep up my neck at his words, though I tried to brush it off with my usual sarcasm.

Me: well, o wouldn’t want to be responsible for messing up your race. just remember to keep it on track. 😏

His response came with a playful challenge.

Daniel: Challenge accepted. Just don’t be surprised when I win—and not just on the track. 😉

I let out a laugh, shaking my head in disbelief.

Me: we’ll see about that, Ricciardo.

Daniel: Count on it.

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────────────────

author's note: comment to be added to the taglist! i'll probably update in 1-2 weeks after i get a few more chapters out in my op81 lay all your love on me fic...stay tuned xx <3

[selineram3421]

*giggles like a psycho*

First Day

Part 2

Part 1

Alastor and Child Reader

Warning! ⚠

⚠ children (lol), reader being a menace ☺, blood/gore, ALL CAPS Bold red Italics = SOUND AFFECTS, red italics= Alastor's thoughts, fake crying, food mention(desserts), mention of murder, mention of kidnapping, mention of torture, murder of test demon ⚠

You saw the school bus and it was filled with shouts and screeches of other demon children. Making sure you of the item in your pocket, you readied yourself to begin the plan.

Stage one: Have some control over the school bus.

The door opened and you hop up the steps, the screams even louder now that you were inside.

It was absolutely unhinged.

I can do better. You thought, taking a quick glance to find a seat.

"Hurry up and sit down brat.", the bus driver yelled.

"Quiet before I cut you open.", you said to them without missing a beat and walked towards the back of the bus.

You were calm as the other children were acting like drug addicts.

One was bold enough to try and trip you with their leg out. Looking at them, you see that they have a cocky grin.

"Can you please move your leg? Its in the way.", you ask.

"No. Just go over it.", they laughed.

With a shrug you do just that, they try and lift their leg up higher to trip you but you jump at the last second and aim for their knee.

SNAP

They scream like bloody murder as they cry, grabbing the attention of the other children. All eyes are on you and the broken leg that's spewing out blood.

"I did ask nicely.", you say before continuing on your way to the open seat in the back.

Finally, you arrive at the school and find your classroom, now you were standing next to the teacher as your new classmates make a mess with paper planes and other items.

"Everyone SHUT UP! This is the new student.", the teacher Ms. Mayberry introduces you to the class. "Go on and say hello, then take the empty seat over in the middle."

You nod and smile as you face the children.

"Don't cross me or you might end up like Mikey!", you say cheerfully and go sit down.

Stage two: Assert dominance and be kind to those who are kind to you. *weed out any snakes*

.

Alastor got ready to pick up his little demon.

I wonder if they had fun. He thought before leaving the hotel.

On his way over, he picked up some pastries from their favorite bakery. Now the Radio Demon was just a few feet away from the gate that had a few lingering children, that's where he saw his little one waiting with the teacher who was smoking.

They spotted him and lit up.

"Alastor!", they cheered before running up.

The teacher had backed up a bit after noticing who he was.

"Good afternoon mon petite!", he said and picked them up. "Did you have a good time? Hm? Were there any pests?"

"I took care of it! But all of them went home alive.", they replied as he began walking back to the hotel. "Bye Ms. Mayberry!", they waved to their teacher.

They had started to tell him what happened on the school bus as they got closer to the hotel, that is when the deer demon reminded them to look sad.

"I don't think I can keep a straight face but I can still cry like I'm sad.", the little demon said. "I know what to do."

They hid their face on his shoulder and started shaking their shoulders, making convincing sniffles and sobs.

Alastor opened the hotel doors, finding the princess and her partner, one of them holding a cupcake.

"Oh no, what happened?", Charlie asked after noticing the little demon's shaking shoulders.

"There was a bully that harassed them today.", he answered and made his way over to the stairs, lifting up the bakery box. "I've already bought them sweets to cheer them up but you can leave the cupcake for dessert after dinner."

Once in the hotel room, he sets them down and put the box of sweets on the small table near the door.

"Wash your hands before getting your sweets.", he says before helping them take off their school bag.

"Ok!", they nod and run over to the bathroom.

Taking the box, the demon in red snaps his fingers to conjure some plates on the coffee table. He sets up the table before putting the pastries on the plates. Making sure to get their favorite cup for their drink.

They went to their room before coming back out with no coat and taking a seat on the couch.

"Now, tell me all about your day.", he said giving them a plate with a slice of cranberry pomegranate curd tart. "What kind of drink would you like with your sweets?"

They ask for their favorite drink and proceed to tell him about what happened after the "tripping" incident.

The deer demon prepares a cup of coffee while getting their drink.

"Some of the kids tried to act tough and pick a fight with me during reeses. The supervisors don't care if there's a fight as long as no one gets killed.", they said before taking a bite of the tart. "I broke a lot of bones today.", they add.

"Don't speak while chewing dear.", Alastor hands them a napkin, placing their cup next to their plate before sitting down.

They go into detail of all the injuries they caused with a wide smile. Telling him that they want to learn more tactics of intimidation to scare some of the staff.

"Finish your homework and I'll take you out so you can have hands on experience.", he says and sips his coffee.

"Really!?", they ask excited.

"Of course! Its the best way to learn."

After dinner (and their desert), they headed out and found a demon to test on.

"The best way to intimidate someone is through fear. Give them something that will always remind others not to try anything. Breaking the boy's leg was good, but remember that it is on school grounds that you cannot kill.", he says as both of them watch the test demon scream as they are being taken apart limb by limb. "Of course you have my permission to kill anyone that tries to kill or kidnap you. Or other terrible things.."

"Can I torture them a little bit?", they ask.

"Yes, but don't let your guard down.", the Radio Demon says, using the tendrils to rip the test demon's head off. "Remember mon petite, prey can bite back."

On the way back to the hotel, he got them a new plush, a small mouse to attach to their school bag.

"Mr. Squeaks."

Tehe.

~Seline, the person.

Extra: Dessert image

Extra EXTRA: Art

Taglist@

@willowaudreykeyes @kiraisastay @c4rved-pumpk1n @stolas-thebirb @scary-noodlesblog @naelys-the-aster @ducky-died-inside @biromanticboba @roo-bi @pooplyface1423 @lbcreations-blog @+?

ML for Alastor🎙

[lefaystrent]

"I want to tell you something."

Thomas speaks the words into the quiet of the kitchen. He stares down at the pot of water sitting on the stove. The burner has been lit, and the heat rises. Soon, the water will boil.

"And it's- it's something that I've thought for a long time now. Years. But I've never said anything."

The smallest of bubbles rise to the surface. Over his shoulder, Thomas can see Patton sitting at the bar.

"It's okay. Take your time," he says. His nose scrunches up as he smiles. His glasses reflect a scattering of kitchen light.

Thomas snorts. "I think years is enough time." He breaks a bundle of pasta in half, letting them fall gently into the steaming water. He adjusts the temperature, then shifts on his feet. "I've just...never said anything," he repeats.

"You don't have to say anything at all." Janus sits at the bar instead. He wears a frown, and he's leaned over the surface with his chin in a propped palm, but the patience in his gaze belays his bored demeanor. "If you don't want to, you don't have to. I certainly won't force you."

Want to? No.

Thomas shakes his head and stirs the pot. "I think I need to."

"Do you?" Logan sits at the bar. His arms are folded over his tie, but it's not an intimidating pose. It's careful. Considerate. "I'd like you to take a moment to 'check yourself before you wreck yourself', as they say. Is that how you use that phrase?"

Thomas rolls his eyes, and yet he's smiling. This is a heavy topic, but it's not constricting. He stirs the noodles easily and they begin to fold together like they were made to. "I'm okay. I don't need to think about it more. I'm not anxious, not really."

"Yeah?" And now it's Virgil sitting at the bar. He stops as if he had been caught in the middle of playing with the string of his hoodie. Then he smooths down the front of his clothes. No ruffles here. He nods. "Good. That's good. That's good, right?"

Thomas still smiles. "Yes, that's good." The pasta softens as it swirls around the water. Round and round it goes. When will it stop? Nobody knows.

"Well don't just keep me in suspense!" Remus slams his hand down on the bar. And then he does it again and again, maybe just to hear the smack, smack, smack. He's not grinning maniacally or anything. Just a quirk of his mustache. A glint in his eyes. A cocked brow. "You know I love a good tease... but this is playing too coy!"

Thomas heaves a huge sigh. "I guess I just..." He trails off. He knocks the spoon against the pot's rim to shake off the water. He sets it aside. "I just don't want this to change anything."

The warmth of the burner blankets his face. The stove vent thrums above his head, and distantly Thomas hears the air conditioner click on. A light sheen of perspiration beads across his face, but its not wholly unpleasant.

Would it be bad? If this did change anything?

Roman sits at the bar. His shoulders are low, like all the breath has left him. He watches Thomas calmly with sad eyes. "What have you got to lose?"

In the pot, the pasta swirls and swirls until it's ready.

"I love you," Thomas finally says, and he turns to look over his shoulder to find that it's himself who sits there.

The other him beams proudly. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

Satisfied, Thomas flicks off the stove burner and drains the water in the sink. He stirs together noodles, hamburger meat, and red sauce, until its in perfect measures, just the way he likes it.

After making himself a plate, Thomas sits at the dining table. He is alone with himself, and he's alright with that.

[prokaryotics]

warmth of doorways | joel miller x reader

pairing: no outbreak!contractor!joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel spends another late night at work. you pay him a visit.

warnings: MDNI. plot and porn. allusions to joel's unsavory youth. oral (fem receiving). mentions of violence, past arguments, and money insecurity. joel smokes one (1) cigarette. alcohol. fingering. unprotected p in v. no mention of reader characteristics other than wardrobe. overuse of commas and hyphens. proofread once. 5.8k

mildly inspired by it will come back / i'm on fire

The office clock ticks rhythmically with every second that passes, broken up by the muted whirling of the ceiling fans as they turn almost imperceptibly counterclockwise on the ceiling.  

Austin is quiet. Outside, orange streetlights glow in narrow cones on the sidewalks, humming, straining with electricity as the bulbs fight to keep the pavement lit. If he really listens, he can hear the faint footsteps of heels against the concrete, the soft sounds of giggling and the low baritone of the voice that follows. Somewhere further down the block, someone is closing their car door, almost swallowed by a dog barking. A breeze pushes against the building and flows through a draft near the window's ledge, pushes through the double-paned glass, and brings with it the smell of damp earth and wet asphalt, leftovers of an afternoon storm. The air is cool and calm as if waiting to be born again tomorrow morning into something more alive, more chaotic, as it simmers in the heat of the Texas sun. 

The other contractors have gone home, back to their wives or families or one bedroom apartments, leaving the office silent save for these sounds of a city reminding him that the hour is late, that the night will not wait for him. 

His chair creaks beneath his weight as he shifts, the leather uncomfortably warm from his body heat. 

Joel stares down at his work. Its contents blur together into a massive, nondescript monstrosity of a shape, small lines of scribbled pencil spilling over one another and morphing into a clump of meaningless letters. He tries to spread them out again into something he can read until a film gathers over his eyes. He’s forced to rub them with the heels of his hands, but even then they are still irritated, his tired gaze struggling to focus on anything other than the sting that radiates through his corneas from the strain of keeping them open and concentrated for so long. The paperwork never ends. It just seems to grow and grow in a pile of meeting briefings and documents requiring his signature, clipboards, a backlog of voicemails from clients to listen to, and notes to take. His palm and the space between his fingers are beginning to cramp with the pressure of the pen he’s holding, having gone through almost everything in one sitting, desperate to put even a tiny dent into the mountain that rests before him. 

The fluorescent lighting isn’t helping, blanketing his work space in a coat of sterile white, making everything around him feel sharp and cold and like he’d hurt himself on it, even the half-filled plastic water bottle sitting at the edge of the desk. 

He sighs, leans back, drags his carton of cigarettes against the wood then taps the bottom against its surface a few times, forcibly packing the tobacco tighter. You’ve been trying to get him to relax on his smoking, or at least cut back, but with shit storm after shit storm constantly coasting towards him with no remorse, the nicotine is the only thing keeping him from going entirely AWOL. He does his best not to feel guilty about it. It would be sad, and ironic, that if he managed to make something successful out of the fucking mess of building a business, his downfall would be lung cancer, and he knows you know that, too, but you never push. You’re never like that and he’s grateful for it. 

He lets his mind drift to you and what you must be doing as he lifts his lighter, a small, stainless steel zippo engraved with his initials, a gift from his parents when he graduated high school, and lights his cigarette before bringing his wristwatch to his face, squinting to read the time. 

Almost midnight. 

Hours spent studying schematic designs, imagining rooms, and the lives that might be led within them, has made him lose track of his own. The days blend together, hours passing as easily and fluidly as water does lapping up against sand, every one of his thoughts curtailed by installation fees and HVAC subcontractors, schedule conflicts and site plans.

You’ve been good about that, too. Gentle. Guiding him back into his own existence. Making it easier for him to remember that although overseeing is his job, he doesn’t have to be invariably vigilant, that not every waking second has to be dedicated to worrying, that he’s going to burn himself out if he keeps going on like this. 

So he isn’t surprised when he spots your shadow first, cast long against the polished tiled floors, followed by your appearance in the doorway. 

He instantly relaxes. 

“What are you doin’ here? You should be sleepin,’” Joel chastises, although he’s smiling just a little, flicking his cigarette against the clay ash-tray sitting at the center of his desk, surrounded by notepads and coffee mugs and drafting pencils.

“You should be at home,” you counter, smiling back. 

He pauses, brings the bud back to his lips and takes a drag. The air goes thick and heavy. 

“There’s a lot of things I should be doing," he answers, stress and worry coupled in his voice as he sits forward and exhales, one elbow on the desk, pushing his fingers through his hair, the other dangling with his cigarette, billowing with gray smoke.  

You look at him for what feels like a long time, following the tense line of muscle in his shoulders as they stretch and roll beneath the cotton of his dress shirt, see his eyes close as he rubs a hand over his face, his breath leaving his body in a reticent, exhausted exhale. 

Then he’s watching as you push off the door frame and walk over to him, plucking the bud from between his middle and pointer fingers and quietly extinguishing it, your lips pursed. You lean against the wood of his desk, between his legs. 

Neither of you have forgotten about the plate you’d dropped. It was only some cheap ceramic thing you had picked up while out shopping when you first moved into your house, one of the ones with the grooves on the bottom to keep it from being knocked over as easily, dipped in bright yellow pottery glaze and dotted around its edges by bright blue flowers, the texture of the sponge used to make the design adding a sort of authentic, homey feel. A pretty thing that came in a set of six, the other five still sitting in your cabinets. It wasn’t difficult to clean up, broken into three solid pieces with only some of the powdery dust from its impact really needing to be swept up, but it wasn’t so much about the plate breaking itself than what it meant. What it symbolized. 

Your shattering frustrations. 

His fracturing exhaustion. 

“They can’t wait?” 

Joel leans back. 

“Not most of ‘em, no.” 

“So you’re killing yourself here? Instead of lying in bed with your wife?” You eye the half empty amber bottle of scotch and the glass filled with melting ice next to it, glance at his accolades hung on the wall, certifications he worked tirelessly to achieve. 

He sighs, hollow, empty sounding. “It’s ain’t that simple. I told you they can’t wait.” 

You go to sit in his lap, bringing your palm up to cup his cheek. “It could be. Divide the work. You’re just one man.” 

He grabs your hand. It’s not your fault you don’t know he can’t bring himself to when so much hinges on the success of this enterprise. Your future. Sarah's future.

“I’m just one man in charge of everythin’ else. It isn’t.” 

There’s another pause, filled by your heavy gazes as you look at one another, waiting for the other to yield. It’s been like this before, instances where you’re stuck within pregnant hesitations, expecting the other to give in, too stubborn to realize it shouldn’t be about who breaks first.

You’re learning that, though, no matter how frustrating it is. 

“I miss my husband,” you confess, although it’s not really a confession more than an admittance to what you both already knew, what you’ve both already felt, everything about this feeling delicate and intimate in a way that makes your lungs constrict.  

Joel frowns, turns his head and kisses the inside of your wrist. His gaze is soft upon you, as gentle as the quiet moon. 

“I know. ‘M sorry,” he murmurs against the delicate skin. 

“You could have called,” you whisper, breathy and painfully soft, not sure you’d be able to say it any louder and still maintain the fragile, stunned atmosphere existing in the space between your bodies. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” 

You almost roll your eyes. No, better to be up and left worrying.

“I wouldn’t have minded.” 

Joel glides his hand up your forearm, his calloused palm warm and heavy, the pad of his thumb brushing soothingly across the bend of your elbow. 

“I would have.” 

Your chest swells up and suddenly you’re choking on bittersweet nostalgia, on memories of when your husband wasn’t being stripped away from you bit by bit by a business he’s trying hard to keep afloat. And you’re choking on sadness, too, on the overwhelming feeling of active loss, so you’re tempted to let yourself lean into it, to just drop the conversation even though you know that you need to have it because sometimes it's easier to let your problems fall asleep quietly rather than wake them by pushing too hard. It’s easier to let yourself rest.

Still, you persist. 

“You can’t keep going on like this. It isn’t just that I miss you, Joel.” 

He knows you won’t repeat yourself. He knows what you mean, anyway. It isn’t about clarity. He’s been doing what he can, suffering what he must. 

“Please, I don’t want to have this argument, honey.” 

The beginnings of a headache are settling somewhere just behind temples, spreading quickly across his forehead, behind his eyes. There’s nothing more he wants than to be able to do what you’re asking, but he chose this profession, and you chose him. He doesn’t have the energy or the will to fight with you right now. 

You reach up and trace the curve of his brow with your thumb, hoping to ease away the wrinkle that lives between them, and maybe mute the thought that has manifested it, the friction and stress of the situation rising until it’s nearly palpable. 

“I’m not trying to argue with you. I’m trying to talk to you, something I seem to be able to do less and less," you explain, palm dropping to mold against the curve of his jaw. 

Joel looks away, at the folders and blue and white floor plans in front of him, at the doorway, half-expecting to see someone standing in it, ready to give him another piece of information that will set construction back weeks and cost him more money than he has.

“You think I enjoy this any more than you do?” The sharpness in his tone is immediately countered by the look of frustrated remorse that softens his expression, a sort of tug on his eyebrows until that damn furrow is finally gone.

“No, I don’t,” you say gently. “And I know that you’ve got a job to do, but I’d like it if it didn’t tear you away from me completely.” 

You twist the hair at the nape of his neck between your fingers as you lean forward, resting your forehead against his own and closing your eyes. 

“I love you, Joel. I miss you. I don’t like sleeping alone in our bed.” 

He won’t apologize again, and he’s sure you wouldn’t want to hear it anyway, but not for any spiteful reason. You’ve both got your hands tied, but he’s sorry for a lot of things - for keeping you awake, for worrying you, for stressing you out, but mostly he’s sorry he’s given you a marriage like this. A marriage filled with nights spent alone in a house he had picked out because it was the safest, because that’s what he needs to think about instead of whether you like the view, or what the outside looks like. He’s got to think about whether the locks will hold, whether the windows won’t shatter completely, whether - god forbid - you can have neighbors to rely on if something were to happen because he’s away all the time now, gone, trying to build a life. 

He’s got to think of these things and you’ve got to make the sacrifices. 

“I don’t like it either.” There’s an unspoken end of his sentence, an ellipse, a part that he leaves out that neither of you wants to say. I don’t like it either, but... 

But this is my job. 

But this is our life. 

But you’ll have to get used to it. 

So he masks it with an exhale, an empty and low sound, as if he’s been waiting for too long with too much, not relieved but resigned. 

“It’s been a long time since we’ve been alone.” He changes the subject, sitting back in his seat as you open your eyes. 

“Yeah,” you agree, trying not to feel bad about it. “Too long. It feels like we’re dating again.” 

Joel chuckles, low and warm and light, like smelling laundry through an open window when the wind carries it through the house, cool and placid. He still looks at you that way, the same way he had when your relationship was just starting, with honey-dewed eyes and a sort of crooked, half-smile, like he wasn’t doing it on purpose, just couldn’t help himself. The same way he’s looking at you now. 

“Except this time your father isn’t here watchin’ us, lookin’ like he wants to kill me.”

Your groan is superseded by your laughter as you shake your head, glad for it but also feeling like time is moving too quickly, too fast for you to really keep up with it. Where had that time gone? Where is it now? 

“Thank God that he isn’t. And he likes you now, it just took him a while.” 

Joel rolls his eyes, scoffing. He’s sat through too many tense dinners and awkward conversations to believe that, even coming from you. 

“Uh-huh. You keep tellin’ yourself that, honey.” Your father is a hardass, but he’s well-intentioned, their every interaction peppered with warnings about providing for you like Joel doesn’t feel guilty enough about dragging you down with him. 

He looks at you, still grinning. 

“Yeah, I know,” you sigh, the remnants of laughter still in your voice. “But I still married you.” 

“For reasons I’ve still yet to understand.” 

“For reasons I’ll remind you of until the day I die.” 

Joel quiets and shifts his gaze to some point of interest on his desk, where one of the edges is chipping, maybe, or maybe he’s looking at a stained ring discoloring the wood because a drink had been left to sweat without a coaster. Nothing important, nothing that warrants catching his attention, the movement secondary to the thoughts in his head to retreat. You both are aware of the alternative to that sentence. 

You guide him back to you. 

“I mean it, Joel. I don’t regret marrying you.” 

“I know you don’t.” Joel rubs his mouth with his hand. He finally meets your gaze as he continues. “But sometimes I wonder what your life could have been like, if it could’ve been better.” 

“It would have been nothing,” you correct fiercely. 

“You would have been comfortable, provided for-.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I know that I put you through hell every day that you’re with me.” 

“Stop it.” 

You don’t even know half of it, he thinks, through no fault of your own. He’s shielded you from what he can, has kept things to himself, given you half-answers when you’d ask why he’s adding overtime dates to the calendar on the fridge, checking to see if Sarah’s lunch is packed before making his own, tossing change into an old paint can on a shelf in his closet. 

‘Things with work,’ he says.

‘Issues with the client,’ he says.

‘I need to stay a little later,’ he says. 

‘This company might fail,’ he doesn’t. ‘And it scares the shit out of me.’ 

“I’m sorry, honey. How can I make it up to you?” 

It isn’t about making anything up to anybody. This is far too complex for that, but he can at least give a little. You sacrifice so much for him, for a life you didn’t really ask to be living, so whatever he can give he knows it won’t even begin to replace what you’ve lost. Your sleep and sanity and security. And it probably won’t ever, but he can try to return the comfort that you give him, the peace of mind, the love. 

The kind that has to be fought for, torn from your chests in hissing, passive aggressive outbursts in the middle of your kitchen that burn like acid with each word that crawls up your throats, or falling easily after being pulled gently from your hands in moments like this, when you’re trying to convince one another that your biggest concerns shouldn’t be each other because you both can’t stand the feeling of being a burden, unable to handle the lurches of guilt and the helplessness that accompanies it. 

“Coming home at a normal hour would be nice.” You aren’t looking to make this conversation any more serious, to be stuck spending a night convincing him that he hadn’t damned you to some sort of anxiety-ridden, fearful existence by proposing to you because for all the bad, all the heartache and stress and worry, there are the good moments too. The early mornings, subdued afternoons spent sitting in the sunshine reading, evenings spent dancing on your patio bathed in warm light from paper lanterns he had hung up the summer before. Moments that are perfect, beautiful, and real and everything you hang on to when the bad ones come. 

Joel senses this and wants to protest, and while he gives you a searching look he refrains from saying anything that might carry the conversation backward. 

“It won’t always be like this,” he says instead, moving one hand to rest at your lower back, his thumb rubbing the soft skin beneath your shirt. “But I like these visits.”

“I’m sure you do. None of this looks at all exciting.” You turn to the desk, at the documents scattered everywhere, at unfinished contract drafts, at illustrations of building models that are far from perfect, with stairs and doors leading nowhere like they lead to some ghost elevator, at the crumbled-up balls of paper. 

“Unfortunately even the borin’ parts are still my job.” 

“Good thing I’m here then, huh?” You shift in his lap, draping your arms around his neck. 

“Yes,” he agrees, both palms now molded against your waist, digging slightly into your hips. “It’s a very good thing you’re here.” 

It feels nice to have these instances, tediums between bigger periods in time like the one you just had, insignificant and maybe not that meaningful but sweet nonetheless, where you can be happy, flirt with your husband while trying your best to speak in hushed, shy voices so the nighttime janitor doesn’t come skirting down the hallway, wondering why he’s hearing a woman’s voice so late at night coming from the contractor’s office.

So you take his face in your hands feeling like a lovesick teenager, his cheeks flushed warm with affection, a little scratchy from a day’s worth of stubble, his eyes soft, and for the first time since you got here, free from the burdens that normally cloud them, and you kiss him, saccharine and slow and easy. 

He tastes faintly like the scotch, and his lips are little bit chapped but they’re amiable in their movements, as if he’d be content to just go on like this kissing you, not worried about where it will lead, or if it’ll lead to anything at all, making you feel slow yet hyper aware from his gentle caresses, and his hands when they climb higher, having moved beneath your shirt, are rough and hot and careful - always so careful with you - and you don’t like to think about why even though you’ve got a pretty good guess. Careful hands that have a history you know only in bits and pieces. Careful hands that have curled into fists, become bloodied and bruised and scabbed. Careful hands that sweat around the grip of a saw, or a hammer, nowadays, the scabs of his youth long gone, but hinted at in the fading white scars that litter his knuckles.

Careful hands that don’t want to risk letting that seep into you, as if you’re something he’d be able to taint, convolute. 

You lean away, then move even further back when he follows, quickly speaking before he’s on you again. “Touch me like you mean it, Joel. Please.” 

“Anythin’ you want, honey.” 

You card your fingers through Joel’s hair, tug slightly at the roots and try not to get too lost in his answering rumble as his kisses slowly grow in intensity until it becomes nearly desperate, finally indulging in the need for closeness he’s stifled to keep himself from cracking beneath the pressure of work completely. 

Joel pulls you closer with a shallow groan, shifts his seat so that you’re right up against the desk, the lip of it digging into your back, but his warmth is seeping into you and through your clothes, so you really don’t care how the wood bites a little into your muscles, coupled with the way his cock is already straining through his jeans, hard and thick and it makes you feel like this entire thing is sort of scandalous. It is dangerous, and even though you know he wouldn’t be doing this if he wasn’t sure the building was empty, the possibility of being caught does thrill you; makes you grin against his lips, lets him pull you apart piece by piece, his kisses loving and devoted and his hands roaming across your rib-cage and breasts like he isn’t sure where he wants to keep them, wanting to touch all of you at once. 

He rises to his feet, takes a step forward and places you onto the desk, his focus so far away from the papers and other shit that decorates it he doesn’t notice or even really care how they’re being pushed or crumpled or ripped by your movements, desire curling and slivering throughout his body, pooling in his belly, settling itself in his lower abdomen and pressing itself against you, his hips between your legs, the thin fabric of your work skirt doing little to fight the hard outline of his cock against your thigh. 

Joel keeps kissing you, fingers pressed against the space between your shoulder blades, the other flat against the surface of his desk, pausing only once to check the doorway again as he kisses your cheeks, then your jaw, before descending down the gentle curve of your neck, trailing his mouth down and across your collarbone before sucking a bruise into the skin at the base of your throat, right next to your fluttering heartbeat. 

You say his name, syrupy thick and mellow, inhaling sharply when he rolls his hips in response and hums a pleased, vibrating sound that makes you pull him closer and wrap your arm around the broad expanse of his shoulder while the other goes to his belt, untucking his shirt with a shaking, hurried hand, feeling like it's unfair that you’ve got two layers to go through while he only has one, his lips slanting against yours again making it even more difficult to focus on getting him undressed especially now that the palm that isn’t on you is suddenly sliding across your thigh and he’s - God - he’s -

He’s making you feel worshiped. Murmurs of his supplication whispered against your mouth, swallowed by your answering, pitiful moans.  

He has to help you with his belt, lightly pushing your hands away to do it himself, tugging the leather through the buckle and then out of the loops, tossing it haphazardly onto the chair behind him, turning back to you without saying a word, looking so in love with you that it makes your chest ache. 

“Joel-” His name gets caught in your throat, but it doesn’t matter because he’s talking and he knows. He knows exactly how you’re feeling because it’s the same for him too - this longing, this incredible, suffocating, twinge of remorse and grief all jumbled up and twisted somewhere beneath your breastplates for things left unsaid yet still acknowledged, the terrifying things, the things that bring you here when it's midnight and you should be asleep but you aren’t because they’re the same things that keep him away and keep you awake. 

“I’m right here,” he murmurs and it’s like you’re drowning in how much he wants you, his eyes raking over you in a way that makes your entire body feel warm, taking in every inch of you with a reverence that makes your thighs tense up and your cunt squeeze around nothing. 

He urges you to lay back, heavy-lidded and following as you do what he says, your skirt bunched around your waist, waiting for him to do something, anything at all that’ll relieve the restless thrumming that’s settled just below your belly button, spreading like an opening fan throughout your abdomen, converting with every second that passes into a dull pounding that makes everything you’re wearing feel insufferably uncomfortable, hyper aware of the way your panties stick to your cunt, and you’re about to say something again, plead with him to move faster, but he’s leaning down and kissing you - placating you - earnest and cloying and you’re just relaxing into it when he leans away, traveling down and down and down your body until his shoulders are between your legs and he’s - 

You open your mouth to say something but you don’t know what. You can hardly think with the way he inches lower and lower, hooking your already spread legs over his shoulders with so much ease it makes you blush. His arms are positioned on either side of your legs and his breath is hot and swirling over the insides of your thighs and the realization of what he intends to do and the seriousness of where and why and the fact that you’re on his fucking desk of all things makes you tremble and your chest bloom in flustered warmth and your fingers curl into the pliable material of your skirt, waiting for him - always waiting - to do something. 

He starts at your knee, with kisses gentle and sweet, works his way up to the inside of your thigh, humming against the delicate tissue nonsensical praise and muses before giving your other leg the same treatment, the same pattern, sucking bruises and nipping at them pinprick sharp before soothing it with his tongue, making you squirm and gasp with every press of his lips, unsure what to do with the overwhelming affection you hold for him growing exponentially in your chest. 

This continues for a long time, hazy and drunkard slow, calloused palms sliding up and down until it feels like you might explode from the tension and you whisper his name, deferential and restive and it nearly makes him grimace in anguish at all the things he can’t do for you, his heart feeling as if it’s been filled with cement and splintered, then shattered completely - the fragile, desperate whine in your voice splitting it in incomplete halves and you think, unsurely, that if he keeps going on like this you’re going to burn up - catch fire and asphyxiate on the smoke. 

But then his thumbs are hooking beneath the lines of fabric that curves across your hips, and he begins to pull them down, tells you to bend your knees and you listen without a second thought, allowing him to strip you of the garment and then they, too, join his belt on the chair and you’re left with nothing really at all protecting you aside from your skirt but its bunched up around your waist like it has been since he laid you down and not doing a damn thing to stop the shiver that makes you shudder against the desk, your heated skin erupting into goosebumps. 

Joel settles himself and brings his hands to your cunt, reaching out to spread you open. There isn’t time to formulate any sort of thoughts about it or what he’s doing because you can hardly breathe let alone think, Joel’s mouth hot against your pussy, his tongue dragging over your clit and you’ve been so worked up that it hurts, almost, and you’re left trying to push him away and pull him closer in equal measures. 

Your lungs stutter, muscles tensing, all the while panting and keening and rocking your hips with no real sense of direction as he brushes a spot that makes you moan and when you twist your fingers in his hair he makes a sound that’s nearly a growl, then he has one finger inside you then another, fucking you slowly with his fingers, taking his time, curling them up and flexing his wrist, his watch digging uncomfortably into the juncture of your leg where it meets your thigh but its okay because all of its mingling together and he’s suddenly yanking you closer as if he wants to fucking devour you, looking up at you with hungry eyes and the next few seconds seem to last for entire years, everything so intense already that you flutter around him, helplessly keening. 

He sucks gently, looks up again in time to see your eyes screw shut, your eyelashes fluttering as he puts his whole mouth on you, rumbling rich and low at the taste of it, your brows creased tightly in coiled pleasure. Joel groans at the sight from somewhere deep within his chest, his cock twitching, his belly feeling like it's been filled with magma as you dig your nails into his hair, fracturing into little pieces. 

The words he drags from you are babbling, halfway to a cry or sob, something equally as frenzied in its neediness, syllables of his name and something that might be please catching against the rounding of your teeth. 

“I’ll give you what you need, baby. Relax,” Joel appeases against your already oversensitive cunt, the pleasure too much and so much that it makes your toes curl until they hurt, like he’s injected gasoline into your bloodstream and made you swallow a match, ready to snap and burst into a fucking supernova, so close to cumming it feels as if every nerve has been stripped to its bear components. 

The pressure against your clit intensifies, becomes sharp and fierce, his tongue circling over and over again, so acute that your hips twitch and he keeps you pinned - holds you down, keeps going and going and going until the world turns white-hot and bright and you’re choking, every breath drawn in fighting against some invisible leaded anchor and fuck - it’s too much all at once, too much after what feels like so long, too much that life can’t always be like this. 

He eases away from you, presses his lips to your shuddering thighs wet and shiny with your cum, deliberate in his motions as he crawls back up your body, soft and pliant and slightly sore, guiding your legs carefully - tenderly - around his waist. 

“I love you.” 

God you love him too. So much that it physically hurts. 

But arousal, harsh and blinding, eclipses your every sense, keeps you from saying anything at all other than his name, moaned pitifully when you glance down and see him undoing his pants and taking his cock in his hand, hard and thick in his fist and you clutch at his back, feeling spun out and delirious as he pushes in gradually, gently, turning your body into a liquid quiver. 

Joel gasps as if the sound was wrenched from him against his will, and your eyes flicker over him, at the muscles tensing beneath his shirt, the sweat darkening his collar, at his lips, red and raw and plump from kissing you beneath his beard glistening with you, his shoulders broad and his arms are sturdy, and his eyes, when you finally meet his gaze, are blown with affection and desire and love. 

And then it’s broken. 

His hips snap forward and you shift a little up the desk, one of his hands moving to cup the back of your head while the other finds your own, lacing your fingers together and you let out a shaky, short, involuntary whimper as he starts to move, getting pleasantly lost in the feeling of being so stretched and full. 

He trails open-mouthed kisses along your neck, curled over you, and the picture of it in your head, of him so big and broad and draped over you like a second skin, makes your cunt clench and rips a groan from his throat that sounds just as wrecked as you feel, his lips dragging along the underside of your jaw, his fingers squeezing your palm. 

Neither of you are going to last much longer. You’ve already been made too taut, too tight and stretched out and resting on the precipice of something, like fingertips pulling back a bowstring, fiery bright pleasure cementing you to his ministrations when his thumb catches your clit, swiping once, your body singing, then over and over again until your shoulder blades are folding against one another as you rock off the desk and into him, his arm encircling your waist, never stopping, working you through every roiling wave and every filthy noise you make until you collapse - falling away from him whimpering. 

“You’re perfect. So good for me, sweetness. So fuckin’ good.”

His rhythm falters, his breathing hard and burning and shuddering as he holds you against his chest, leaving you to wail against his shoulder, puffing against his neck, clinging onto him like he’s the only thing keeping your grounded and then he shatters too, fingers suddenly in your hair, whispering sentences that you can’t quite make out, adoring among a slew of curses. 

His office comes back in pieces, blurry splinters and slightly out of focus. 

His head tips against your shoulder and you both stay like that for a long while, resting against each other, breathing. You sigh, shuddering and low and content, and he leans back to look at you, his expression open and sincere and it’s the most vulnerable you’ve seen him in awhile. 

“I’ll try to come home earlier.” 

You know that he’ll try. You also know that it doesn’t matter. 

You’re not going to dwell on it. 

“I don’t know if you should. This visit was fun.” You grin, exhausted but happy and glad to be near him, glad that’s happy, and if anything at least he’s here - in this building where he’s less likely to get hurt, less likely to do anything other than listen to conversations and go through paperwork. 

‘Yeah, until we get caught,” he agrees before pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

You hum in agreement, then start to giggle. You’ll go home with him tonight in one piece. That’s all you can ask. 

“Then it’ll really be like when we were dating.”